The Path of Blades
by SmogKeeper
Summary: This is the story of how one of the the three deadliest blademasters in all of Valoran came to be. Starting with his chancy meeting with Kayvn to the tragedies that forced him into the League of Legends. This is the expanded lore of Talon, the Blade's Shadow. Now complete, with oneshots of all sorts incoming. I will write requests from reviews after the first oneshot! RIOT OWNS ALL
1. Chapter 1--Kayvn

This is a barren land; poverty, sickness and oppression defined the area in ways no other words could. No one was promised the next meal, much less a long_ or_ happy life. Not far from this were places that seem like paradise, but the felicity of those tall buildings had never spread this far. Orphans were to fend for themselves. The old were scarce, and kindness for them were even scarcer. This was like a concentration camp, except this place was the actual home of its poor inhabitants.

This was the Noxian Ghettos.

This was also where the boy started his life.

The boy was one of the orphans in the ghetto. His life began without the kindness of others around him, and even if they tried, they could not help him much; he had been fending for himself since he could run. Keeping himself alive, getting food for himself, finding a shelter big enough to be alone in. To continue living, to not faint forever, motivated him, compelling him to do whatever it took.

But today, this boy, no more then nine, alone, didn't seem to be enough. As he was being chased by the fat butcher wielding a rusted knife, the young boy suddenly wished someone will watch his back. Maybe if he had a diversion while he looted stores, then he wouldn't be busted and chased around the ghetto. Holding his prize, some meat and a small amount of coins, the winded boy rushed along the streets in search of somewhere to hide. A cover he could duck under and disappear the way he always did, or a crossroad to lose the butcher.

The boy got what he wished for. Not far ahead is a dark alleyway, the perfect place to hide in the shadows and throw off hostile followers. With renewed strength and hope, the boy sprinted for the alley, with the butcher hot on his heels.

"Gumme buck muh money," the butcher yelled, "Muybe I'll let you go alive!"

Without hesitation, the boy rushed into the alley. Instead of running toward the dead end, he made a sharp turn as soon as he entered the alley, and stood with his back to the wall. The boy seemed to know magic, as the shadows falling on him almost blended him completely with his surroundings. If a person had not been looking when he was visible, he had no chance of finding him.

Soon, the butcher was in the alley as well. He grumbled and growled, cursing under his breath, but his eyes couldn't locate the stealthy child. Turning in circles, he yelled.

"I SEE YOU!" As he spoke, he swung his cleaver blindly, creating sparks against the wall opposite to the boy. The boy remained still and silent, waiting for the departure of this terrible person. His breath seemed to stop as he stood with the patience far beyond his age. The butcher, though, shouted immaturely and angrily. After throwing quite a fit, the butcher left. The boy sighed and stepped out of his shadow.

Suddenly, the boy felt a searing pain on the back of his head. When his vision cleared again, he realized that he's been grabbed by his hair and almost lifted off the ground by the butcher.

"Kid," the butcher said, "the place was a dead end, you really think I'd just leave like that?"

The butcher positioned his rusty knife under the boy's neck. He grinned with evil glee, his unclean eyes shown with the type of emotion that signified Noxus-a thirst for blood. Even as the lowest level in the nation, citizens are killers. The boy kicked and fought even though it was a lost cause- his need for food and a strange pride to not admit that he failed still pushed him to try everything he had up his sleeves.

A pebble sailed through the air and smashed the butcher on the back of his head. He howled in pain and dropped the boy. The boy immediately sprang to his feet and ran-toward the other boy who threw the pebble. Not much was said.

"I'm Kayvn," the other boy said. "This way!"

"Thanks,"

Together and silent, the boys ran toward another dark alley among the ghetto. As they hit the dead end, Kayvn pulled up a wooden plank on the floor, revealing a small tunnel that would barely fit a slender adult. Kayvn gestured for the boy to jump in, and the boy did so reluctantly. Kayvn went down after the boy, pulling back the wooden plank to block the entrance. Moments later, the butcher barreled in, only to behold nothing. Again he waited, but to no avail. He made more angry noises, but he never tried to look around and see where the boys could go in a dead end.

Meanwhile, in the sewers of Noxian Ghetto.

"Hey," Kayvn said as he threw himself onto a makeshift bed. He winced on the impact, but smiled again as he spoke. "How are you?"

The boy said nothing. He only looked at Kayvn with a strange expression, like he was thinking _did the person who saved my life just say such a dumb thing?_

"Well," Kayvn continued awkwardly, "nice to meet you too."

"Who are you?" The boy asked.

"I told you," Kayvn said, "I'm Kayvn!"

"No, why do you live in the sewers?" The boy replied.

"I dunno, why do you live on the streets?"

The boy was quiet again.

"So, you still have your foods?" Kayvn asked.

"Yes." The boy said. He reached for his bag, and handed Kayvn a share of food.

"Thanks," Kayvn said, "hey, you haven't told me your name yet!"

"Don't have one." The boy simply replied.

Kayvn became pensive. He held his chin in a thoughtful manner, faking a maturity that didn't belong to him. Finally, he realized that being another orphan in the Noxus slums meant that he couldn't even read and write, much less name another boy his age.

"We'll come up with something for you," Kayvn said at last. "let's eat for now."

Together, the boys ate. Kayvn would spontaneously say something, but it did not take long for him to realize that the other boy had limited vocabulary, and a even more limited love for speaking. They were rather silent after that discovery.

Although communication was a failure, a bond begun to form-trust, companionship, things neither boy had ever experienced.


	2. Chapter 2--The First Kill

"Dammit," An enraged shopkeeper yelled as he struggled to get out from behind the counter, waving his fist, glasses trembling in anger. "Get back here with my money right this instance, you brat!"

The boy had grown since encountering Kayvn. When they first met, neither could've been more than nine, but now, the boy was taller, leaner, and a lot more mature-perhaps a teenager. His dark eyes were even darker, almost gleaming with shadows if he focused. In his hands, he held a rough brown paper bag, half filled with something heavy. He didn't look back

at the yelling shopkeeper and kept running, taking some acute turns here and there to avoid any followers.

Meanwhile, back in the store, Kayvn was helping himself to even more things as the boy lured everyone else away. Kayvn, like the boy, grew and matured. He was almost a foot taller-this is the golden age of boys, the time to see if they can grow into soldiers, or another unimportant member of the ghetto. Before anyone spotted him, Kayvn left with his prizes.

Back in the sewer, Kayvn met up with the boy, who was a little winded from the running.

"Next time," the boy said, "you be bait!"

"Of course," Kayvn laughed, "nobody likes to run across the entire ghetto carrying a bag of coins, right?"

"Yeah," the boy said curtly.

"What did you get?" Kayvn asked, rubbing his hands.

"Some copper coins," the boy replied, "a few gold pieces."

"Well I've got the lunch for today." Kayvn said. "We can buy dinner with those coins, man!"

"Good." The boy said. They shared the food portion of their loot, and laid down on thier own beds.

"Hey," Kayvn started. "Have you ever heard of the guilds?"

"No." the boy answered.

"Well," Kayvn said, "I heard from some beggar that if we become strong enough, we can get into guilds, and from there we might be noticed by the military! Apparently that's how Riven rose to glory!"

"Riven," the boy mumbled, "Manliest woman alive?"

"Yeah," Kayvn laughed at their inside joke, "That Riven."

"How do we get strong in this place," the boy sat up and turned to Kayvn, suddenly becoming wordy, "We can barely feed ourselves, much less afford weapons or actual food that gives us the energy we need. Wake up, Kayvn. Riven is famous _because_ she is one of a kind, a miracle. There will be no more like her."

"You're right," Kayvn said. "let's be more realistic and think about where we buy dinner from. You feel me?"

"Yeah," the boy laid down again, "let me rest for a while first."

Another year of partnership passed. The boy and Kayvn went through a great deal more, pilfering from many a poor merchant-in all honesty, they were not much richer than the boys. However, it was becoming evident that Kayvn was not the best "partner in crime" in the Noxian slums. The boy was the better thief and the better bait, and Kayvn failed almost more than the boy could tolerate-the Noxian way forgave no one and spared no one.

Today, they were out on a "quest" to obtain food that would be sufficient to last them days. The Noxian slums were dangerous, and since the duo have been stealing in rather big quantities, some vindictive shop owners were on the lookout for the two. If they appeared to the public too long, they would be caught, tortured and then killed for all the things they have stolen.

The boy wandered the streets of the ghetto, brushing past fellow peasants who were also famished and malnutritioned. They were all skeleton and skin; the only difference was that some have bigger bones. Completely overlooking disturbing details, the boy spotted their target of the day.

The place should not even be called a store, for it had no walls or doors. A man stood behind a cart filled with food that made the boy's mouth water. It had fresh vegetables, clean fruits and even a tiny bit of meat. If this was a success, then the boys would have somewhat full bellies for the rest of the month. Most importantly, behind the cart full of delicious foods, there was a bag of coins. The amount of money would let the boys live in relative peace and safety for so long, the boy felt as though he would face any danger to obtain it. Making up his mind, he went in closer to wait for Kayvn's bait.

It seemed to have been hours, but Kayvn's bait was never presented. He didn't show up the way they planned. He wasn't there to argue with the shop owner, and he didn't run away with the big red apple to attract _any_ attention whatsoever. In short, he was a disappointment yet again. The boy gritted his teeth as the scent of food seduced him, sapping his patience for his terrible partner. In the end, he decided to go in alone.

He snuck up from behind the shop keeper. Since there was no distraction from Kayvn, he could only carry the bag of coin as he ran. Staying silent to the best of his ability, he reached for the bag of gold. He held his breath, letting whatever little shadow there were to cover himself, an ability he had since he was but a toddler. His slim, pale hands and grabbed the bag. He would have been successful if the store owner was not so alert. To avoid thieves, he had placed a bell in his bag of gold, and as the boy so stealthily took it, the bell rang and alerted the shop keeper. Instantly the shop keeper snapped around with a blade in his hand, ready to draw blood. He swung and caught the boy on the arm, leaving a gash that was not fatal, but extremely painful. The boy cursed and jumped back, holding his wounded arm. The crowd was immediately alerted too. Most of them just wanted to loot something for themselves in the havoc, but a few that was hired by the shop keeper would be enough to eat the boy for lunch. Without a second thought about the beautiful foods, he held his bag tightly in his good arm and made the most reasonable, smart, and decisive move-he ran for it.

The chase was terrifying for most children, but the boy was no ordinary child. He ran with a particular destination, but took the most confusing routes. To make things better, he even purposely stepped into a few dead ends to get rid of these unwanted followers. Soon, he freed himself-it was hard, he had not eaten actually food in a while, and carrying metal coins plus a huge cut on the arm as you run didn't make things any easier. By the time he shook off the hostile mobs with intelligent maneuvers, he was exhausted, sweaty, and starving, in addition to feeling his life drain from the wound on his arm. His insides hurt from the hollowness of being not filled at all, and his vision blurred every so often from the loss of blood.

The boy was mad. Kayvn failed him again, and ruined a great fortune. If Kayvn stuck to the plan, they would have been rich, full-bellied boys instead of boys that were starving with a painful gash on the arm with a huge bag of money that would not be able to buy them anything without alerting the actual owner.

Meeting Kayvn was nothing new. It was the usual tirade that contained approximately 20 words, hard shove against the wall, and some dirty looks. However, this time the boy was a bit for serious. Kayvn must had sensed that, for he drew two beautiful knives from his pocket.

"Look what I've got man," He exclaimed, "these babes are worth it!"

"Of course," the boy retorted, "you didn't pay for it, of course it's worth it for you."

"C'mon, dude" Kayvn smiled, "these are proly worth more than that entire cart of food."

The boy did not bother to point out that selling weapons attracted people that would simply kill and take the merchandise. He was tired of Kayvn's blind positiveness. Kayvn was a fool, and partnering with a fool would be his demise one day. This time it was a cut on the arm, but maybe it would move up to his throat the next time. Also, it was the Noxian way to get rid of the weak and the useless. Kayvn was what more than two third of the entire nation of Noxus despised-full of impossible hopes and failed constantly. General Darius killed his coward of a commander to rise and become a hero, so why should _he _hesitate to put this dumb brat out of his misery?

The boy glanced at those knives again. His finger tingled as he imagined how those would feel, slicing through flesh. He took it from Kayvn and studied it, edge, hilt, guard and all. It was a mediocre piece of art at most, far from those made to kill, but even these can mean life or death in this ghetto. He clenched his jaws. The strong prospered while the weak died for the strong, and he would take his first step out of the slums, right here, right now.

Kayvn was distracted by the boy's love for the knife.

"Hey," Kayvn said, "you can keep it if you want-"

The boy interrupted by slitting Kayvn's throat. It was a rigid movement that would've been dodged by anybody, but the boy had Kayvn's trust, meaning that he was in a perfect position to score the kill. Warm blood covered his young hands, tainting them for the first time. The boy looked at Kayvn, somewhat lost. Kayvn looked back with a bit of surprise, but mostly, it was the sadness of a person betrayed by the one he counted on the most. It was a sadness the boy could not bare to watch.

"You were a terrible partner," he mumbled angrily to his dying friend, avoiding eye contact. "worst of all, after all these years, you did not fulfill the promise to give me a name."

"I-I, I'm sorry." Kayvn said through a mouthful of blood. That made the boy stare straight into those dying eyes again.

To the boy, the apology was more confusing than any riddle-Kayvn was the one being betrayed, yet he said "sorry" as his last words. The confusion drowned the anger that had been building up all these years. He stared into Kayvn's eyes, which were sincere till the end. Kayvn tried for one last smile as he patted the boy's shoulder, and then the fatal wounds kicked in. He closed his eyes, and the gentle hand went slack, silently falling to the floor of their hideout.

The boy stared at his dead friend in regret. Now that Kayvn was dead, his flaws seemed to be minimized, and in barely five seconds, the boy missed the upbeat companion he murdered with his own hands.

After a while, the boy stood up and dragged Kayvn's body out of the room. He dumped the corpse into the gutter.

"You should not have been born in Noxus." They boy said, forlorn. Then he turned away and disappeared into the shadows.


	3. Chapter 3--General Du Couteau

The boy is now a grown adolescence. He was now tall, slightly muscled and pale from living in the sewers. He somehow acquired a cape-five strips of clothes with a blade on the tip of each. His ability to conceal himself even earned him a nickname among other thieves-the shadow. However, his steals were not the most amazing feature of these years-he has become more than just a common criminal-he was now a killer. Combining his incredible ability to stay hidden and a talent with knives that he seemed to be born with, the boy was feared by many. Instead of running from every failure, he can now disappear and then fight back against people who dared to pursue him alone.

This turn of event had an unexpected effect-local guilds all began to become interested in the boy's talent. Lowly groups of rebellious people who have acquired some sort of strength barely beyond their fellow peasants instantly felt the need to get the boy to become one of them. The local ritual of recruiting someone, though, is sending a skilled member of the guild and beat the friendliness into the new recruit. They are offered the option to join, or to die. This had happened multiple times with the boy already. He smiled whenever he thought of the first of the many bodies for the gutter.

"You have two paths," he said, as though he thought it was am amazingly intelligent phrase, "be one with us, or be one with all the other people I killed!"

The boy didn't reply-after Kayvn's death, he became even less talkative, especially when facing another body for the gutter. The recruiter waited a moment for an answer. Soon he realized that he was supposed to take the silence as a "no", so he begun to stride toward the boy-big, careless steps, completely not acknowledging the fact that the boy could turn on him. As he walked, throwing knives appeared in his hands, and he hurled them toward the boy.

"Last chance, kid!" He yelled. Though he spoke of chance, he did not have mercy with his throwing knives. They flew like arrows, all aimed for lethal, nasty hits. He must have had much practice, for he threw with a strength and accuracy that would be deadly to any Noxian peasant. However this time, he faced an opponent of equal, if not more, prowess. Instead of panicking at the fact that someone wanted his life, the boy simply sidestepped the blades and drew his own. The dagger that he sharpened with the bones of many. He started to make his way toward the recruiter to close in for the kill.

The recruiter made another fatal mistake in his arrogance. Judging the boy entirely by his age, the recruiter was confident that a brat still having growth spurts could not be his match in anything-melee or ranged. He let the nimble teen get into swinging distance before realizing that it was not the best idea. The boy was smaller, meaning that he had the upper hand when the two was next to each other, _and _he was fast. Fast beyond any children of this age. The first blow almost killed the recruiter-he barely had time to stop smiling before he was forced to duck by a slash to the head. The boy continued him attack with another slice to the wrist-if the recruiter lost an arm, he might as well have just lost his life. The recruiter cursed in his head and jumped back, but now that the boy was close, he was determined to stay close and draw blood.

Three more attacks.

That was all it took to make the man realize how hopelessly outmatched he was at close ranged combat.

That was also all it took for the boy to impale him through the right shoulder. Roaring in agony, the recruiter tried to kick the boy. The blind strike did not find its mark, and the boy pulled out his dagger, only to stab again. This blow would have killed the recruiter, but he twisted his body just a little so that the blade went into his side, not his heart. He struggled again, this time managing to push the boy away. He quickly stumbled away and pulled out the dagger in his side.

"Damn brat," he spat, "wait, where is-"

The boy appeared behind him from the shadows. He kicked his opponent on his newest wound, and then grabbed his dagger back. As the recruiter howled in pain, the boy slit his throat. The boy dumped his body into the gutter so he could have a few days of peace-a rest before the guild realize that their recruiter failed, and send out another one.

There were many who simply allowed the boy to use their cockiness. There were also some that put up a fight, even threatened the boy's life. Those were more painful memories, but those also taught the boy a lot. For example, survival was not the same as victory-faking a surrender could save lives. Gloating over your victory before finishing off an opponent could get you mortally wounded.

Just yesterday, another "recruiter" attacked him. This one used a cutlass, and he did have the edge on the boy, strength wise. After the first few blows, the recruiter seemed to match the boy in both speed and power-a first attack made the boy stumble back, a perfect parry to the boy's retaliation, and then another blow to knock the boy to the ground. It was crystal clear that fighting straight on would only be the death of him. That was not a huge problem, though. The boy was used to being the disadvantaged one in the fight-he had one meal a day, he was alone since he could remember, and he was only a teenager after all. Careful maneuvers dexterity should be able to keep him on his feet much longer, but victory seemed a bit far-at least, far if he only used his body. A victory belonged to those who could outskill _and_ outsmart, and the boy had the perfect shadow for him to jump out from and stab the "recruiter" from behind in mind already.

Faking terror, the boy ran wildly away. The recruiter chased after him for the kill, so concentrated on finishing the job that he didn't even realize how the boy was outrunning him with ease without any stumble or shortness of breath. If he took into account the fact that the boy didn't really seem like he was running for his life, he might have stopped his unplanned pursuit, or at least be careful when the boy vanished from sight. With a degrading sneer at the boy's "cowardice", the recruiter dashed blindly around the corner the boy had disappeared in.

It was a dead end, with no humans in sight. The only sound and movement was the wind rustling the fallen leaves. The boy vividly remembered how the recruiter's eyes narrowed right before the boy leapt out from behind him, silent like a hunting panther. The blade of his battle-hardened dagger sliced through the back of the recruiter's neck with a sickening, light rip. Blood spilled like a crimson waterfall as the recruiter made gurgling noises that didn't sound quite human. The boy retreated into the shadows moment later, dragging the mostly dead recruiter to feed the gutter again.

The boy was half lost in his flashback as he sat in front of the hideout down in the underground passages, but a heightened sense of awareness gained through numerous bloodbaths alerted him of danger. It was a chilly hunch, some unclear feeling that told him if he didn't move he might die. he listened to it, and thus avoided a thrown dagger that was apparently not aimed at the ground. He was instantly alert, his dark eyes searching for the person who attacked him.

A tall, cloaked man walked into the boy's view. He was clad tightly in light leather armor, and he held a medium-length knife. It had a wide, triangular blade of black grey, and the narrow guard was more of a decoration; the message was clear-defense is for weaklings. The man had a noble air-although his face was covered under a dark scarf, he seemed to be looking down at the boy.

"If you want to recruit me," the boy said, "my answer is no."

The man was silent, but his silence had a strange quality, like he was quietly evaluating the boy and found him worthy. He waved him left hand, the one not holding the knife, and three daggers sailed toward the boy with impossible speed. The boy rolled as fast as he could to avoid it, but when he got back up, he realized that he had been forced into the man's attack range. The triangular blade almost left its mark on the first strike, but the boy hastily deflected it. _Great,_ he thought_, more people who want me on their side._

The boy made a jab at the man, but the man immediately caught his blade and twisted the weapon out of the boy's hand. He reached out with his left hand to grab the boy, but the boy ducked and spun. Eight blades exploded from under his tattered clothe, surprising the man. One of them left a mark on the man's left palm. It seemed that collecting and reusing the blades of the fallen was not completely useless, but the boy also knew that it would take a lot more, maybe more than he could offer, to bring down this particular opponent. After exchanging three more thrusts and parries, the boy ran. He was going to pull the shadow trick again.

He almost made it into the dark streets. Suddenly, the man was right in front of him in a blink. Before the boy could react, the man kicked the boy on the chest and knocked him down. The boy recovered as he fell, and he rolled to the side as the man's knife threw off sparks against the ground. He got back to him feet and slashed desperately at the man. The blow would have left a nasty gash, but the man disappeared and re-materialized out of the boy's reach. The boy did not understand how it happened, but he didn't have time to consider why he bothered to fight a man who could apparently teleport. Almost immediately, the man was in his face again, slashing and hacking, keeping the boy on his toes.

Soon, the boy was near the point of unconsciousness, the malnutrition, the lack of proper training, and the lack of the ability to teleport like the man crippled him to the point where he could barely defend his torso and head. His arms and legs already received several wounds. It got to the life and death moment within another five exchanges. The boy slipped under the man's guard, but the man simply blinked way again, and then chucked a throwing knife to distract the boy while he teleported behind the boy for the final strike.

This was it. Survival or doom. The boy lunged forward with his dagger outstretched to block the throwing knife while avoiding the man. The plan was a success. Both of the man's attack failed, but he was still right behind the boy with his knife ready. The boy whipped around to slash the man, but he did not know how grave the mistake was.

As soon as the boy stopped running, the man's aura changed. Before, he might be teleporting around the place, but he still seemed like a normal man. However, now, as he begun to spin and chuck blades at the speed of light, it was clear that this fight was one-sided. The storm of steel overwhelmed the boy within seconds, and the next second would probably be his last. The closed his eyes in true defeat, realizing that even if he got the man to drop his guard, it would still be impossible for any kind of surprise attack to hit a teleporting enemy.

The flurry of blades faded. The man, instead of continuing his terrifying hurricane of weapons, teleported to the boy and held his blade to the boy's neck. He spoke for the first time.

"I don't need your allegiance, nor do I want you to bow down. I only require service in turn for a chance to improve yourself." His voice was deep and gruff. As he spoke, he ripped off his hood and revealed the face of a middle-aged man-he wasn't even winded. "I am general Du Couteau of the Noxus High Commands."

The boy froze. A general? A general, in the ghetto at midnight, fighting with actual weapons, for him? Who was he? A homeless ghetto boy who betrayed his best and only friend. A common thief who took advantage of other peasants for a living. This was what the Noxus High Command deem worthy?

"Your deeds are a legend around here," the general smiled. "I have taken a personal interest in you, and this is my action alone-completely unrelated to the will of others in power."

The boy considered. To accept meant getting out of the ghettos, but also great chances of getting involved in affairs that could take his life. But the general offered a chance to improve himself-strength in return for service. The guilds offered things among the same line, thought, why did he refuse? Then again, the general was the only one to best him in combat.

A raven flew overhead, cawing, and its hollow cry reminded the boy of all the horrors he wanted to leave behind-he made up his mind

"I will serve," the boy said, "under one condition-my blades will serve no one but you."

"Of course," the general replied, "you'll be my little personal assassin."

The general reached out to shake the boy's hand. The boy reluctantly complied. As they two walked away, Genreal Du Couteau asked.

"What is your real name?"

"Don't have one," the answer was ominously similar as the answer he gave Kayvn.

"Well," Genreal Du Couteau scowled, "we'll figure one out. I foresee you working for me for quite a while, my to-be right hand man...mhmm, maybe my talons? Hey, Talon is a good name too-you like it?"

The boy did not speak, but nodded. A name-that was more than Kayvn ever gave him. This new company might not turn out bad after all. It might be random, but it was what the boy, _Talon_, searched for, for his entire life. For the first time, he smiled sincerely and whole-heartedly.


	4. Chapter 4--Girl Trouble

General Du Couteau and Talon snuck into the Du Couteau manor silently. The General claimed to not want to wake his daughters, and also to make sure Talon was at his most presentable state. A good first impression, the general said, is the key to a good relationship. Talon knew nothing about relationships with others, so naturally he listened. The general sent a servant to clean Talon up and get him some clothes his size. However, it soon became clear that Talon needed more than that-he had no idea what to do with a bathtub and soap. Later, he failed to use his fork and knife. He might be able to slice humans, but he couldn't get the hang of cutting a piece of steak. Being out on the streets for his entire life, Talon couldn't even recognize closets or chandeliers.

It was almost two in the morning, but Talon could not fall asleep. He was put in a servant's room, but the bed was more comfortable than any floors he'd ever slept on. There were even sheets and pillows. The softness of the furnitures was so garish that, instead of resting, Talon laid awake, pondering his decision. It was against whatever moral he had left to join forces with another person, but at the same time the general will be the last person to hold him back and be a burden.

Next morning, the general ordered a change of clothes for Talon. On the streets, Talon wore whatever he could-a red mask, the cape, a purple hoodie and tattered jeans. The explanation was that to "fit in" in the house of Du Couteau, one must stop dressing like a peasant.

The new gears were a pale shade of purple, with a spiky left should pad and perfect mimic of Talon's old cape. However, this one came with a more serious hood that truly covered Talon's face. It was a great advantage to be able to simply pull over the hood and remain anonymous.

"Don't you look like a nice noble boy!" The general smiled when Talon entered his study. "I would be fooled if I didn't get you myself!"

Talon didn't say anything in reply to that. However, before he could start on more serious subjects, two girls Talon's age rushed into the study.

"Good morning, father!" Said one with flame red hair, slightly taller than the other, wearing tight black leather clothes.

"Hey, who is kid?" The blonde one, evidentially younger, said. Apparently she didn't have the patience to wait for her father to start on the subject. She gawked at Talon curiously, and when Talon looked back with his cold, steady glance, she looked down, toying with the corners of her white robe.

"Well you see," the general begun nervously. "Talon here is a boy with very special talents for, ah, finishing some jobs for me. I would hate to see it go to waste in the ghettos."

The redhead's eyes widened.

"You mean he's a peasant?" She asked, her jaw dropping.

"Yes-" the general said.

"EEEW!" The blonde girl squealed. "A peasant in our house, papa, what are you thinking!"

"Listen now-" the general protested, but the redhead interrupted him this time.

"Father, this is unacceptable!" She said, "what will other generals say if they hear of this?"

"Riven rose out of the ghetto too!" The general countered.

"That is why she is so famous," the redhead continued, "she is one of a kind, a miracle. Not every street rat can pick up a weapon and kill!"

When she said that, she casted a sideway glance at Talon, the way she would look at stain on the carpet. Talon raised an eyebrow at that.

"Should I leave the household, sir?" Talon said.

"No, no," The general said hurriedly. "Katarina, Cassiopeia, you two stop being rude. Talon, these are my daughters. Girls, this is Talon."

The girls looked at Talon in disgust. Talon didn't mind-he was used to it.

"You two will help him around the house when I can't, you hear?" The general ordered. "And since I'm a man with a job, I will not be around often."

The redhead reluctantly turned toward Talon and reached out her hand.

"Im Katarina." She grumbled, "not glad to meet you."

Cassiopeia also shook Talon's hand. She didn't speak. Maybe it was how Talon just _looked_ like a serial killer with that hood. He might still be young and starved, but it's just different-the way one appeared-after one committed murder.

"I can tell that you won't treat him nicely when I'm gone." the general suddenly said. "How's this-fight him, Kat."

"Gladly." Katarina licked her lips. She faced Talon again. "Meet me in the arena. Cassio, take him there for me."

Cassiopeia said something under her breath, but agreed.

"Talon," The general said apologetically after his daughters have left, "Kat is a lot like you-best her in combat, and she's appreciate you. But please, try to not use lethal moves on my little girl."

Talon nodded without a word-speaking was never his hobby.

"By the way," The general said, "I got a new weapon for you."

He reached under his desk and pulled out a bundle of clothe. He unwrapped it, revealing two feet of cold steel. The edge was sharpened and so was the tip. On the other end, there was no handle or guard. Instead, on the side that caved in slightly, there was a leather strap.

"It's an arm blade." The general explained. "Strap it onto your forearm. Swing your arm to strike, the way you would with your dagger."

The general handed it over, and Talon caressed the blade with a passion he never showed with people. He looked up at the general.

"Thank you."

The arena was located in the back yard of the huge mansion, beside a huge swimming pool. The arena itself was huge as well.

Katarina was already standing in the middle of the arena. She didn't look like she changed-aside from the fact that she now carried half a dozen blades, tucked in or strapped on to her leather outfit. In her hands were two daggers, significantly bigger than the rest.

"Are you ready?" She asked with a evil grin.

Talon nodded-again, he didn't speak. Instead, he raised his new arm blade. This cocky girl might just be the perfect practice with the new blade. He swung his forearm, and they both heard the air being sliced apart. For the first time, Talon grinned-a bloodthirsty little smirk that sent a chill down Katarina's spine. Then she scowled, feeling ashamed of feeling fear. Without another word, she jumped at Talon.

Their blades met in a flash of sparks. Talon was still overpowered from years of malnutrition, but as soon as he realized, his arm went slack, and he disengaged his armblade swiftly to swing again. Katarina has no choice but to jump back. She had lost the first exchange.

Katarina growled fiercely and gritted her teeth. She could not believe that she was at a disadvantage from the start. In disbelief, she leapt at Talon again. This time, she spun, attempted to use the momentum to overpower Talon even more. Talon was way too smart, as he saw the sign of a reckless attack, and jumped back. Katarina managed to slice the air, almost throwing herself off balance. She ran close behind the retreating boy. Talon parried and sidestepped with ease, using his faster reflexes to bait out a mistake-one wrong move, one step too close, and he will finish this.

Eventually, Katarina became exhausted. Her steps and swings slowed as the battle dragged on. Her face was beaded with sweat. Finally, with a slash that was overextended, Katarina made herself stumble. Talon seized this window of opportunity and went on the offensive. He lunged his entire body forward, his arm blade thrusted forward, ready to draw blood. Katarina looked like she was going to be skewered. Talon vaguely remembered promising the general not to fatally hurt Katarina, and for a split second his blade slowed down.

Katarina reacted.

Like her father, she literally teleported out of the way, temporally disappearing and then reappearing a couple feet away. Talon tumbled to get the least from the fall. Katarina looked pale and extremely worn out from the effort, but it looked like she knew how to do it-it was no luck that she pulled that trick. She blew some hair our of her eye and chucked her dagger. Talon ducked. The cycle of finding a opening continued.

The two went on sparring for almost a good hour. Talon finally emerged victorious when he wore Katarina down so much that she could no longer teleport. Maybe Talon could do nothing against the general and _his_, well, flashes, but Katarina is inferior in every way. Most importantly, the battle between a person who had killed others and a person who was completely raised in a training arena were always one-sided. So, it was no surprise that in the end, Katarina made one more mistake after she could no longer muster the strength to teleport, and dove past Talon with a failed stab. Talon pushed her to the ground with tremendous ease-90% of the force came from Katarina herself.

Katarina glared at Talon with all the fury in the world when his blade was at her neck.

"I win." Talon declared calmly.

Katarina just glared at Talon for a moment. Her fierce green eyes held Talon's cold, murderer eyes for the whole time, with steadiness that Talon didn't assume she had. Then she broke into a huge grin and stood up.

"You are good!" Katarina announced abruptly, patting Talon's shoulder. "Welcome to my home!"


	5. Chapter 5--Sneaking Out Has Its Price

"Talon," The general boomed, "faster with your arms!"

_WHACK!_

"Talon, focus on your footwork too!"

_BONK!_

"Talon, parry!"

_SLASH!_

By the end of a regular training moring, Talon was yet again beat up tired, bleeding, bruised and hungry. The general seemed like a nice person-he was, really-but he was also extremely strict during their training combats. He worked Talon harder than he would with some of his adult students. Talon's stomach growled as he tended his own wounds back in his room.

_My room,_ Talon thought. Who could've known that the little ghetto boy could come to own a room! Its a room in the house of a general from the Noxus High Commands too!

A knock on the door halted Talon's train of thoughts. He got up and opened the door to behold Katarina, in her usual black leather clothing and daggers. Normally, no one was allowed to bear arm in the house of Noxian Commanders, but the general's daughter was the exception-she was truly a prodigy, but a bit too nice to actually kill people. Talon had bested her many times in hand to hand combats and sword fights, but Katarina had bested him in dagger throwing and mobility just as much. Talon found her ability to teleport, inherited from her father, to be extremely frustrating. Her ability to narrowly escape a otherwise unavoidable blow was just insane.

However, Talon improved quite a lot as well. He managed to learn the secret behind the General's sneaky little teleport-it was a magic he couldn't quite put into words. It required intense concentration on a specific thing with the special incantations. With the General's guidance, Talon managed to dash _to_ another person, but jumping to anywhere at will was still impossible.

A punch on the shoulder jolted him back to reality.

"I'm speaking to you," Katarina stated crossly. "Did you even hear what I said!"

"No." Talon replied as curtly as ever.

"You are a douche." Katarina rolled her eyes. "So, Cassio and I are going out today. Wanna tag along?"

"Why?"

"Maybe to see some cool stuff you never got to see as, you know," Katarina danced around the fact that Talon was a street boy not long ago. "We're gonna check out some weapons too."

Talon's eyes brightened. Blades were the common interest between Katarina and Talon. Because of their shared hobby, Cassiopeia was often left alone, pouting and puffing as Katarina and Talon hacked away at each other or toyed with knives. Talon nodded.

"When do we leave?" He asked.

"After my dad leaves," Katarina said mischievously, then added, "Around three in the afternoon. We eat lunch and then go."

Talon nodded again, silent and nonchalant. Katarina growled at this.

"You are no fun to talk to at all," Katarina complained, "At least dad is wordier than you!"

The redhead girl ran off. Talon closed the door and looked at his scarred hands. He couldn't shake the feeling that he is getting to cozy, too close, to these kids at the Du Couteau mansion. However, he also couldn't find anything wrong with it-these kids didn't depend on him, and he didn't depend on them. There was no failing them, or worse, them failing him. He could use a bit of family comfort after all he'd been through.

Three o'clock arrived, swift as a cougar. The General departed with a kiss of goodbye to each of the girls, and a firm "look after my girls please" look to Talon. Talon smiled, a special treat he reserved for the general. He was a truly pleasant sight when he smiled-his eyes would stop looking dead for a moment, and observant men could see what Talon would've been if he had a happy childhood. The general grabbed his coat and was out the doors. When Katarina was sure that the general was out of hearing distance, she jumped and yelled in joy.

"Freedom!" She screamed.

"Awwww yeah!" Cassiopeia swished her hair, "Let's go, Kat, Talon, let's get out of here too!"

Talon didn't speak. He nodded, a mild eagerness in his dark eyes. Then, as he looked at the two girls, he creased his brows in disapproval.

"You need to change," He said, "we can't have you two _looking like_ Du Couteau kids out there."

"And just why is that?" Katarina glared.

"He has enemies." Talon said.

Katarina stomped her feet, but she knew that as frustrated as she was, Talon was very correct. So, instead of further arguing, she and her sister ran upstairs into their big, shared room to get clothes to blend in. It took them half an hour to find actual, common people clothes in their huge closet. It was a miracle that those clothes were there in the first place-if the general wasn't the most renowned assassin in all of Noxus, if he didn't want the girls to have the ability to camouflage themselves, they wouldn't have these clothes at all. But they were lucky, and soon, they were well on their way to the marketplace of the upperclass Noxians.

The place was clean. That was Talon's first impression. Even though it was still filthy compared to the Du Couteau household, the place was heaven for Talon. Growing up in the ghetto marketplace, being in this place was like going into the garden of Eden. Katarina and Cassiopeia walked ahead, pointing, gawking and yelling at displayed items in the little shops along the wide, crowded street. Talon hung back, watching around, alert and on guard. Turns out that it was not needed. While it was true that the general had enemies, most didn't expect his children at the marketplace, disguised as somewhat wealthy commoners.

"Hey Talon, you brought money right?" Katarina called.

Talon nodded in amusement. The sisters, although not much younger than him, were mere children to him. He found his maturity especially entertaining when contrasted with the unworried, happy girls.

"I wanna buy that!"

"Ooh, ooh, ooh, Talon, get that jewel for me!"

"That's a wicked knife!"

"Ooh la la, such pretty dolls!"

"We should buy some stuff for father too, store it for his next birthday."

"Hey, what about my new china set!"

Suddenly, Cassiopeia turned to Talon.

"Talon, Talon!" She jumped up and down. She looked like a doll herself. "Should I buy you a new cape?"

"No," Talon paled at the memory of Cassiopeia trying to dress him last time. "I'm not a doll."

"But you would like some new blades, wouldn't you?" Katarina bumped him with her shoulder.

Talon nodded with a glint in his eyes. Weapons were more welcomed than random new additions to his wardrobe. With Katarina the experienced blade shopper leading the way, the trio slowly made their way toward the more deadly goods. Cassiopeia squirmed and whined all the way, but she could not defy her older sister, or Talon the murderer teenager. Soon, they were in a store full of merchandises capable of killing.

"Children in my weapon shop," The shop keeper raised an eyebrow. "Special day, eh?"

"Hey, Al!" Katarina ran up to the old, muscular man. "It's me!"

"Oh, Kitty Kat!" The old man laughed. "My vision is failing me. Come closer, come closer!"

"I _told_ you not to call me that!" Katarina stomped her foot in frustration.

"Been a while since I last saw you," He said, "What do you need today?"

"Just the norms," Katarina told him. "but also something for this guy here too."

She gestured at Talon. Talon took a step forward and looked directly at the blacksmith. The old man smiled at him warmly too. Cassiopeia was the one hanging back this time, having zero interest in weapons, or fighting in general. Katarina gallivanted the store, throwing some of her discoveries carelessly at Talon once in a while, signifying that she was going to buy it. Talon tried his best to catch them and keep Cassiopeia somewhat entertained at the same time.

Suddenly, the old man called Talon over.

"You are being followed." He whispered, his hands pointing at a certain weapon in his store as though he was speaking of some irrelevant purchases they could make.

Talon gave him a questioned look from under his hook, while trying to act like he was listening full-heartedly to the old man introduce weapons.

"Three men, disguised, outside. If they were friendly, they would have the Du Couteau crest." The shopkeeper said. "They were here when you entered, didn't show any sign of leaving since then."

Talon's eyes narrowed. He had failed to detect men tailing them.

"How-" Talon started, but the shopkeeper cut him off.

"To live in Noxus, everyone needs to keep their guards up." He winked. "No place is safe, even for richer folks."

Talon nodded. He muttered "thank you" under his breath, and went back to Katarina and Cassiopeia. He pretended to be guiding them to the restroom, and made a sneaky little turn at the last second and went out the back door.

"What happened?" Katarina demanded. "Why did we have to leave?"

"People stalking us." Talon answered. "They mean harm."

"What?" Cassiopeia squeaked. "Why?"

"Your father." Talon explained. "Let's move quick."

He rushed to two girls toward the edge of the "upper class" area. If they managed to get back to either the mansion _or_ the ghetto area, Talon could skirmish, even fight back, but he wasn't ready to take on multiple grown man loyal to Noxian High Command just yet.

"Why can't we just fight them?" Katarina growled as she ran. "We are raised as warriors!"

"Assassins." Talon corrected. "We are assassins. We don't charge into them and die. We wait for a good time to kill them."

"Ugh," Cassiopeia said, "I'm so tired!"

They ran on. Not much later, they saw the three men rushing over to their direction. They must have realized that the children were gone from sight too long. The three ran as fast as they could. However, soon the followers gained on them, and what Talon didn't realize was that out of the nobles' area, the pursuers would no longer need to be subtle in their chase. They now gained on the children, full out sprinting to catch their preys. Talon gritted his teeth.

"Let's run for the little forest over there," Talon pointed. It was away from both the mansion and the ghetto, but it had the complicated geographic features Talon needed to lose any followers. "Buy ourselves some time and try to reach the General."

"How?" Katarina exclaimed breathlessly, "My only magic is my shunpo!"

Talon cursed.

"Just hide and sneak up on them," He decided. "Try to single them out?"

Katarina nodded.

"What about me, what about me?" Cassiopeia shouted.

"Stay close." Talon said.

By the time they reached the forest, tripping and panting, the men were almost on them. This was stealing in the ghetto and getting chased all over again. As they got closer, Talon saw that they were armed. That was expected, but not comforting at all. He only had the arm blade e hidden up his sleeves, and a few purchases from the various stores. They didn't want the followers to see that they carry their weapons into the bathroom and evoke suspicion, so they left all the useful shoppings behind.

They ran into the forest and tried their best to hide among the trees. After Talon did his best to cover himself and the girls with the shadows, he observed his surrounding and hoped he didn't miss any other signs of danger when they rushed in. The more he looked, the more ominous the forest seemed. It was the afternoon, around six o'clock, but the forest was dark as night. Talon thought it was the leaves and branches blocking out the sun, but even that couldn't explain the abnormal darkness. Usually, shadows were friends, but the shadows here didn't appear to be harmless and sheltering. For some reason, Talon felt that the darkness in this forest already had an owner; it did not welcome him, or the girls. He shivered, which was not something he did.

The men also walked into the forest. Their faces were emotionless, their garments giving no clue of whom they served, and their now drawn weapons definitely held no mercy. Talon held his breath as the men walked close, and the girls tried their best to do the same. Slowly, silently, like death itself, the men strode close to where they were hiding. They didn't seem to notice the children hidden by shadows. They walked on, apparently fooled by Talon's little trick.

_Thud_. A blade entered the spot where Talon was crouching. Talon jumped and then tumbled to avoid the deadly edge.

"Nice, kid." One of the men said. He walked over, and the three children backed off. "Really nice."

He retrieved his blade with the other two men covering him. Talon was stunned.

"How?" Talon asked.

"Such simple, unsophisticated magic is useless against us." The man responded. "Go regret your pathetic effort in hell, kid."

He and his partners walked close. They were almost within striking distance when they stopped. Instead of the children, they were now staring intently at a spot behind them. Quicker than Talon or Katarina could seize the chance and strike, however, the stares turned looks of absolute terror. The three turned around and fled like terrified kittens, but it was somehow too late. Twisted, darkish red spiked rose from the ground and impaled them all-it was a truly gruesome scene, and Talon rushed to cover the eyes of the girls. The men fell to the ground as silently as feathers. To whomever did this,they were probably not much more important than feathers anyways.

Talon turned to look at where the men were staring before they were slaughtered like pigs. On top of Talon was a rather thin branch, and without Talon even realizing it, a woman has perched herself on that branch. When Talon say woman, however, he did not want to imply that she is human. She had purplish red hair that floated like fire, and her skin was bluish violet. Literally, bluish violet, like she is bruised on every single inch of her skin. She even had sharp, elfish ears and runic marks over her body to add to the creepiness. She giggled at the tension of the children, and her voice sounded hollow, far away, like a bell ringing all the way on the other side of Noxus.

"Thank you." Talon finally said.

"Oh, little boy, its nothing," The terrifying purple woman laughed, "I am quite interested in you, though!"

Talon didn't respond.

"Why so boring and quiet?" The woman sighed. "I see you are also one of us, well, part of you are, anyways."

"What is 'us'?" Talon asked.

"The Shadow Isles, silly." The woman mocked. "I am Evelynn, the Widow."

Talon shivered again, this time at the mentioned name. According to legends, this woman was from a realm of undeads and monsters more horrid than any Zaun's creations. Evelynn the Widow was said to be a ghostly woman who preyed on the best of young men. Talon swallowed at this thought. From the way she disposed of the men chasing them, he could tell that she can slit his throat with little more than a thought.

Evelynn floated down from her branch and landed in front of Talon, smiling seductively. She traced a sharp, cold finger over Talon's cheek. Talon took a step back. Evelynn's smile widened. She followed, staying close to Talon, their noses almost touching.

"I can smell the darkness in your veins, boy," Evelynn crooned. "Generations old, but still one of ours. Let me wake it up for you."

Then, without any warning, she bit Talon on the neck like a vampire. Pain surged through Talon, and his world went black.


	6. Chapter 6--The First Errand

Talon began to feel the world around him again. Where was he? The surface under him was hard-he was definitely not in his bed. He sat up, and he heard someone cry out, startled. It was Katarina. Talon opened his eyes and beheld the two girls. Then, he looked around, saw the dead bodies on the ground, and everything came back to him. Pursuers. Evelynn. The Shadow Isles.

"Oh, you're awake, thank the gods!" Cassiopeia said.

"Are you OK?" Katarina asked, her emerald eyes glowing with worry.

"Yes," Talon whispered with fatigue. He still felt the pain of Evelynn's bite-it was like she injected venom down his veins. He sat up, but he almost fell back down from the lightheadedness. Katarina caught him.

"Are you sure?"

Talon nodded impatiently. He made Katarina let go of him-he was not in the mood to be helped by some little girl. After waking up, he realized that he had failed. He failed to protect the girls, and the men after them were killed by Evelynn. He had failed to lead the girls to the safest place where they could make it out alive. He had failed the general's demand of keeping his daughters safe. He felt like he became his lousy buddy, Kayvn.

"Let's go home." he said.

When they were back at the Du Couteau mansion, the general was already home. As soon as the general saw the three, his placid expression turned grim and serious, and he strode over. He shooed the girls away when he saw the traces of tears on their faces; yes, even Katarina had been crying during the time Talon was out cold.

They went into the General's study. Talon was offered a seat and a cup of tea.

"So," the general said, "What's the story?"

"We went out to shop," Talon started.

"OK, I know already that you didn't start it." The general smiled. "Go on."

"There were people after us."

The general didn't reply to this for a short while. Talon waited through the deafening silence, unsure if the general was unhappy that his daughters were endangered, or thoughtful about who could've sent those men.

"Keep going," the general said.

"I wanted to go to either the ghetto or the mansion to hide," Talon admitted, "but they gained on us too fast, so I made the girls run into a little forest. Then, Evelynn appeared to us and killed the men."

"Was there anything else?" The general asked with a perfect poker face.

"Evelynn said that I have some Shadow Isle heritage." Talon said. He wasn't going to lie to the man he respected most.

"Well," General Du Couteae rose, "Although I am grateful that Evelynn saved my three dear children, I must report her presence to the rest of the High Command."

"But sir-"

"I know what you are going to say." The general held up his hand. "It's not such a big deal. The Shadow Isle is indeed a place of terror, but it used to be beautiful just like the rest of Valoran. You youngster won't know about the Rune War, but before it, the Shadow Isle was as much of a heaven as Ionia now."

"What?" Talon came close to gasping.

"The Shadow Isle was once a very wealthy and prosperous nation." The general recalled, "But it was cursed and shattered in the Rune War. Residents became spectral beings or terrifying monsters; evil was drawn to it from the sheer amount of death and resentment."

"That helps so much," Talon grumbled sarcastically. The general laughed like he couldn't believe Talon had what it took to speak that way.

"We learn a lot from the, ahh, beings, of the Shadow Isles," The general said. "My teleportation ability is not a human technique; general Swain transforms into a huge crow. Sion and Urgot are undeads serving Noxus. Talon, there is nothing to fear or be ashamed of."

Again, no verbal responses from Talon. The boy remained silent with a pensiveness that did not belong to his age group. Half hidden by the shadows in the room, Talon looked like a true member of the Shadow Isle. Then he shook his head.

"This is pointless," Talon said. "I just need to get better, at everything, and not make the mistakes I made today."

"That's the spirit," The general praised, and then his tone changed, very sharply. "You have nothing else to show me?"

Talon's eyes narrowed. This was something he had let nobody in about so far. Not even the girls, who were right there when Evelynn did everything, noticed anything different. Then, he sighed in defeat. He started to concentrate, as though he was going to work the magic to dash to a person. However, instead of instantly transporting himself, he sent out a shockwave, and was gone. Just like that. Poof. He disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared with a small vortex that sucked in the air around him.

The general looked at him, strangely proud, with even a bit of jealousy.

"Now, that's a nice gift from the Widow," The general rubbed his chin, "invisibility, even if it's just a brief second, makes you a top tier assassin. Also, I felt the ripple in the air-you can also use that move very,_ very_, aggressively."

Talon bowed. As he walked out, the general called from behind him.

"Do you know how I knew you were hiding something?" The general asked, with a glint of mischief in his eyes that reminded Talon of his eldest daughter.

"How?"

"Ha, I actually didn't." The general laughed, "Was just trying my luck!"

Talon stared at the general incredulously. Then he turned swiftly on his heels and left the room. Even out the doors, he could still hear the general's amusement, a husky, sincere laugh, something Talon enjoyed hearing. Talon never understood how he could become so attached to anyone, but he already knew that the three people in this family were throats he would never slit.

Two days later, General Du Couteau called Talon into his study again, still in the informal, have-a-cup-of-tea manner. The general was reading some documents when Talon walked in.

"Good day, kid." The general greeted.

Talon bowed slightly.

"So," the general continued, "I found out who sent those men from yesterday."

"How?" Talon asked, stunned.

"Their weapons," The general answered, "but the big question is, do you want revenge?"

Talon eyed the general, then nodded.

"Great," The general grinned, "your first mission as my little personal assassin!"

The next thirty minutes were all instructions, plans, what to do when discovered, etc. The strategies were boring, and Talon knew his own ways out of tight situations with his years out on the streets. To Talon's relief, the general sent him off soon enough-as soon as Talon slightly showed that lecturing wasn't needed, the general allowed him to go prepare. Talon was out of the mansion in half an hour, packed and ready to kill. Although he was cold and calm for a boy his age, Talon stilled rubbed his blade in anticipation, eagerness and nervousness as he walked away from the sheltered Du Couteau household. After a rather long period of time, Talon was finally free to roam and fight again.

It took Talon several days to reach his destination. His target resided in a manor much smaller and uglier than the house of the Du Couteau mansion. It was surrounded by thick stone walls that goes to about ten feet, with barbed wire on the top. Two guards were at the front gate, each with low quality armor and a spear. Talon looked at their weapons, and was able to see the shadows of those who attempted at his life back in Evelynn's forest. He almost growled out loud.

Instead, Talon took a deep breath, and stayed hidden. It was still noon then, and assassins typically didn't do well in broad daylight. He would have to bid his time if he wanted to kill any dukes. He left the mansion after a brief scout from the outside, picturing ways to complete his task. Then, he settled at a local inn for the rest of the day, wishing to be well-rested for the major event.

The sun set with a bloody red-orange. The hue of the day's end casted a equally bright shade on the Duke's mansion, and to Talon, it looked like medium rare steak on a plate. Tucking blades in almost every fold of his clothes and pulling up his hood, he set out to finish his first task.

Talon inspected the mansion with cold calculation. He remembered from his earlier "tour" that there were two guards in the front gate. He would have to avoid those two. He also remembered one place, where the wall was either broken or designed to be shorter, and he was sure he could get in from there. Talon was confident in his ability to infiltrate. The hard part, however, was getting to his target without anyone noticing. His invisibility lasted two seconds-he will need 100 times that to get to the Duke.

So, Talon grabbed an idea from the time on the streets. Instead of going onto the property immediately, he went out and bought a full commoner's outfit and put it on over his actual attire. The extra layer of clothe made him look solid enough to pass as a servant. With this camouflage, Talon snuck in. Inside the walls, the mansion didn't look half as bad. Talon realized that he had landed in the back yard, but very far away from the actual house. He ducked behind a tree as people walked by, covering himself in the shadows like an actual being of the Shadow Isles. Slowly, hiding himself whenever someone walked by, Talon made his way into the house.

He made it to the master bedroom. It was not easy-he had to avoid many servants and guards. But he made it-he was in. He didn't fail the general this time. He did it. With barely contained pride and happiness, Talon slid inside the door. He quietly closed those heavy wooden panels close behind him, taking comfort in the security of the slight darkness in the room. Then, the lights were turned on.

"Welcome," A man's voice boomed, "Servant of the Due Couteau family, I have been waiting for days."

Talon snapped around, trying to locate the source of the voice as he desperately tried to cover himself with little shreds of darkness. He pulled over his hood in his panic. It didn't help much.

A tall, thick man strode slowly into Talon's view. The man was at least six five, with arms as buff as Talon's waist. He had a rapier strapped to his side.

"How interesting of the general to send...a mere boy," the man mused, "are you the one he picked up from the slums?"

Talon did not answer. He charged the man with his blade drawn. The man was taken aback by this sudden show of aggression, as he stumbled backwards and nearly fell. Talon pressed on with his attacks. The man parried, but Talon disengaged and went in for even more. Talon could picture the two of them in the eyes of other people-one grown man desperately trying to defend, and a scrawny teenager going for the kill like a berserk animal. It might be a bit unorthodox, even suicidal, but this is the style Talon has developed over the years-he'd rather die than let his blade return without drawing blood. So, he pushed on, fighting like a madman.

Soon, the blades of the two fighters were positioned in such a way that if neither backed off, both will be severely injured in this exchange. Talon knew this; the Duke knew this as well.

Talon didn't care. His life should've ended in the night that the General defeated him in the duel. Keeping his life was not as important as completing his goals. He'd rather die than let his blade fly but draw no blood. The Duke, on the other hand, clearly feared pain and possible death a lot more. Before Talon's blade even touched him, the Duke drew back hastily, blocking and stepping back even more in the face of danger. Talon sneered at this cowardice. He was sure he would win this fight-in a duel to the death, the one that feared the outcome would always, always lose.

The man's face was a sickly shade of red from the brief battle. He sized up Talon again in with wide eyes, and took another step back.

"Guards!" The man drew his rapier and called. He looked at Talon as though Talon was some dangerous animal as he stepped away. But he was against Talon, not some random street thug, and taking a few laughable steps away would not save him. Concentrating on the dash technique the General taught him, Talon blinked right behind him and put a blade on his throat.

"Now," Talon licked his lips, "Who informed you about me?"

Naturally, Talon worry about getting out alive. But, as the time he spent with the Du Couteau's increased, he actually started to care. If this man knew of his plans, then there is a high chance of spy existing in the household, and that was downright terrifying.

"I, I guessed!" The man stuttered, his face contorted in fear, "I knew, I knew he would send men after me!"

Talon frowned. The man didn't sound like he was lying, and so far things were going rather well. The arrogant Duke confronted him alone and paid the price. He was getting what he wanted-

_Zoom!_

An arrow zipped past Talon's head, missing because of Talon's last second dodge. _The guards,_ Talon thought. Three more were fired, and one found it's mark on Talon's shoulder. Talon tugged his hostage back.

"Tell them to back off," Talon threatened, "If you value your life."

The Duke replied with a hard elbow to Talon's chest.

Talon gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. The Duke struggled against his hold. Pain made the world black out for a split second; it was a moment of hopelessness.

Then, Talon promptly slit the throat of the the squirming Duke, letting the blood wash his hands, dragging him back to reality.

The guards cried in alarm and outrage, but Talon was already running. He snapped off the arrow shaft, and clutched his injured shoulder as he made his way to the nearest window. If he could jump and survive, his chances of making it out alive would be much greater. So he ran, bleeding, winded, arrows raining down on his as he went. His vision darkened as he lost blood; this was like the time Kayvn messed him up.

Talon broke through the fancy glass of the master bedroom. He fell two stories onto a huge balcony, and jumped again. He rolled to lessen the impact. His head pounded as blood streamed out of his shoulder. Every step became taxing. His vision was failing him, and so was the rest of his body-the loss of blood is REALLY dragging him down.

"Stop him!"

"Over there!"

Talon heard people yell behind him. He tried to walk faster, only to stumble and almost fall. The household was actually full of armed guards, and killing the Duke had its price. _Of course_ the Duke knew someone was coming for him. It was the only logical event to succeed the attempt assassination of the three youngsters. Maybe if he waited, maybe if he wasn't headstrong...

Another arrow pierced Talon's flesh, and he stumbled again. Good news was that he's now in front of the window, but the bad news was that he might as well be dead from losing too much blood. He gritted his teeth and charged the window, breaking through and losing consciousness as he fell.

When Talon woke again, he was laying in a bed. Not as good as the one in the general's house, but it was definitely something made to be slept on. He tried to clear his mind; what does a bed mean? What should it say about his current condition?

"Hey," The General's voice came from somewhere above him. "How're you feeling?"

Wait, the General?

Talon snapped upright in the bed. The action pained him, but he still opened his eyes to behold the person next to him. It was the General indeed, smiling slightly with a steaming mug on the table next to him. When he saw Talon getting up, he held up his hands and backed up a step.

"Easy, son," The General said, "you're gonna reopen your wounds!"

Then Talon noticed someone else. A starling red highlight snoozing on the edge of the bed.

"Kat?" Talon croaked.

"Oh," The General's smile widened. "the girls were terribly worried. They insisted on staying. Cassio is too young, but I can't make Kat budge-"

"How did I live?" Talon interrupted. The General was taken aback by the fact that Talon was actively participating in the conversation.

"Well," He shook his head, "I never expected you to complete the mission in the first place, no offense. I just wanted to show you what's truly out there."

"But-"

"Talon," The General stated sternly, "you killed that Duke, its already more than what I could ask of even Kat. You should be proud!"

Talon lowered his gaze. The General wasn't disappointed. That was good. He was not a disappointment. He looked at Kat again, her head buried in her arms, rising and falling softly as she slept. Someone cared for him enough to stay by his side when he was knocked out?

The General followed his gaze.

"Aye," The General put a hand on Talon's uninjured shoulder. "They really are fond of you."

"They shouldn't be," Talon grumbled, "I'm a servant of the house."

"It's good manners to be nice to the servants," The General said, a glint of humor in his eyes, "besides, would I follow and protect a mere servant on a errand?"

The General backed up again.

"I still have business to attend to," He declared, "rest well, child. More quests are bound to be on their way."

Talon watched General Du Couteau smile once more at him. Then, the General left the room, walking without a sound, much like his three children.


	7. Chapter 7--Kat Down

Talon walked into the General's office again. Now, Talon is about to the general's nose, with broader shoulders, longer limbs, and a lot more muscle. He was still skinny for a male constantly in combat, but he could almost be considered a man. His dark hair and eyes were the only things that never changed.

Years have passed since his first mission. He could almost pass a a grown man now. The general had once commented that if Talon put on a few more pounds, he could be in the actual army already. Talon did not remember his exact age, but he felt like he was strong and still growing stronger.

"Good day to you," The general smiled at Talon. "Sit and have some tea with me!"

"My pleasure," Talon smiled back. Over the years, he'd even developed the ability to converse like a normal person.

"So," The general crossed his fingers and leaned forward. "ready for another task?"

"Definitely!" Talon cracked his knuckles. "The last one kept me in bed for way so long I thought my body was molding."

"Well this one is a bit different," The general was fidgeting. But the general didn't fidget-he was always calm with a hint of warmth.

"Is something bothering you?" Talon frowned.

"You know about Kat's first mission, right?" The general said.

"On that Demacian? What about it?"

Talon couldn't help but widen his smile at the fond memory of Katarina. She too was different-age didn't work its magic on Talon only. Years turned her into a beautiful young lady with stunning red hair and shiny green eyes. While she still wore black, there was a lot more to fill up _certain_ areas to further suggest femininity. It would always make Talon laugh to see such a fair girl throw knives, curse, and even wrestle in close combat.

"I fear for her safety." The general admitted after a pause. "Her skills are unmatched in this generation-besides you, of course-but her emotions, they get in her way-"

The General coughed awkwardly when he realized how much he was ranting. Talon looked at general Du Couteau, amused.

"She will be fine, sir."

The General rubbed his eyes, and Talon noticed for the first time the white in the General's hair.

"She's my daughter," He said, "wait until you have your own kids, then you'll worry too. But, the point is, I need you to watch over her, just this once."

Talon heard the pleading in the general's voice. He sighed.

"Anything for you, sir." He answered, "But why can't you do it yourself? Aren't you more suited?"

"I am," The general said gloomily. "but the other Generals would be pointing fingers at her if her daddy followed her into battle. I can stalk her just fine, but the other general's-I cannot evade their senses."

"And it helps when I do it, because?"

"You are the protective older brother who can't help himself and slipped out of the house." The general laughed, "They'll understand."

"And I'll look like the only weakling." Talon scowled.

"Oh, Talon." The general shook his head. "One day, you will learn that caring is not the equivalent to weakness. Family-it's one thing everyone values more than the war."

A week later, Katarina was packed. Although she tried her best to sneak away, her father and little sister still caught her before her departure and smothered her in hugs and "be careful"s. She attempted to look vexed, but Talon knew she wasn't by the way she hugged back. Talon still refrained from physical contact, but he did say goodbye. The redhead was off after seemingly hours of family love.

Less than half an hour later, Talon too departed. He couldn't just follow Katarina, of course, she had anti-stalking trainings before. Instead, he followed the map General gave him. It had all the instructions Katarina received, and Talon figured it was like sending two on the mission without one of them knowing. He dressed like a commoner and packed light just like Katarina, with the arm-blade that he had grown to love.

The first day of his life as a stalker went well. Katarina had no clue that she was being followed. Talon couldn't help but smile at how much her red hair stood out in the crowd, making her such an easy target. Talon checked into the room right next to her and she didn't even have a clue.

The second and third day past just like that, with Talon blending into the society like a chameleon. Katarina did not even show any signs of suspicion-Talon changed his outfits every day, and even purposely slouched to vary his height. It was by far the most amusing assignment yet-watching Katarina carry on her own mission without the slightest idea that he right under her nose. He would rub it in her face for eternity.

The forth day, Talon woke up and snuck over to check on Katarina in the other room. She was not there. In fact, the entire room was empty of all personal belongings. Talon creased his brows and went downstairs to inquire the Innkeeper.

"The bloody hair girl?" The innkeeper said, "oh, she left at the crack of dawn! In such a hurry too, didn't even take the change..."

"Thank you," Talon replied absentmindedly. He paid and walked out onto the streets.

The crowd was buzzing with nervous anticipation. Talon could just sense that something was terribly wrong by the way people whispered and then looked around. His frown deepened. He overheard an older man next to him.

"...terribly bloody murder, all those wounds..."

Talon stopped in his track. Murder could very possibly mean Katarina-except she was not supposed to kill here. Her target was still miles away according to the General. He grabbed the man's shoulder. The man jumped in surprise and turned to Talon.

"Whaddya want?" The man grumbled.

"What is this 'murder' you speak of?" Talon went straight to the point.

"Keep it down, kid!" The older man hushed. He looked around to make sure no attention was drawn to him.

"What is this murder you speak of?" Talon asked again. This time, he slipped a small blade into his hand and pressed it against the older man's throat. He stepped close to block the view.

"Wah-hey, what-" The older man swallowed. He tried to back up, but Talon followed like a shadow.

"Last chance," Talon said. "Tell me about the murder."

The man paled considerably as he tried to for words. He uttered a few phrases of pure gibberish, and then regained enough composure to speak.

"This morning, in, in the woods, a Demacian General-" He swallowed again. "died in the woods, it was really messy from what I've heard-"

"Knife wounds?" Talon pressed.

"Y-yes, yes, knife wounds! A lot of them!" The man immediately said.

Talon removed the blade. Then he was gone, like a gust of wind. The trembling man took another step back just out of fear, and his legs nearly gave way under him.

Meanwhile, Talon was sprinting toward the forest in hopes of finding traces of Katarina. The clumsy girl-she should never have attacked random generals from Demacia. What if it was a trap? What if she was hurt? What if she was captured by the rest of the forces? Talon gritted his teeth as he ran toward the woods. He must find Katarina, and quick.

The forest floor was splattered with blood. Dark stains painted to ground under the mutilated corpse. There was no blade left, but Talon knew the cut's patterns and depths. He'd been receiving enough of those to recognize a Death Lotus victim when he saw one. This was definitely Katarina's doing. Now, he just needed _some_ sign, any sign, of where Katarina went after this.

There were none.

Talon's expression gradually darkened as his observant eyes was not rewarded with clues. Katarina had a clean kill-she did not leave any evidence behind other than the body itself. For the first time, Talon hated Katarina for being so good. With nothing to guide him, Talon retreated from the mobs peering at the body. _Think_, he told himself, _what would _I _do if I was Kat?_

Absorbed in his thoughts, Talon temporarily lost his vigilance, and accidentally bumped into someone as he walked.

"Hey, watch it!" A girl cried.

_Kat?_

Talon looked up. Sure enough, it was the clumsy redhead. Her murderous glare melted into pure shock when she recognized Talon.

"TALON?" She yelled, even louder, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Talon inwardly groaned. How should he explain this?

"I, ah-" Talon rubbed his chin, avoiding eye contact with Katarina. "I'm on a mission of my own."

It wasn't a lie, but not the entire truth either. It sounded good enough to Talon, but Katarina didn't buy it. She crossed her arms across her chest, and eyed Talon suspiciously.

"Uh huh," She said, an eyebrow raised. Then, he mood changed completely, and she took a step forward to grab Talon. Before Talon could object, she began shaking him and laughing like a little girl.

"I killed a Demacian General!" She declared. "Not the target! Just some random Demacian scum, and _bam_, took him out!"

"I've noticed-"

"Dad's gonna be so happy!" Katarina punched Talon in joy. "This is going to be so good for my name!"

"Um, Kat-"

"Wait, let's get back to dad and tell him about it!"

"Actually-"

"Or should be continue?" Katarina said thoughtfully. "Maybe keep this a secret, and surprise dad?"

"Kat!" Talon finally snapped. Katarina looked at him, as though remembering his presence for the first time. She blushed, realizing that just how immature she was a second ago.

"Yes?"

"You need to continue your mission." Talon informed solemnly. "There are reasons to why these Generals need to be taken out before the actual fighting-"

"Nonsense!" Katarina rolled her shiny green eyes. "They're all Demacians, they're the same!"

"Listen to me!" Talon glared at Katarina. "You _have _to continue! Your target in particular, he is said to be leading a devastating assault for our troops! If you don't stop him, Noxian blood will be spilled!"

Katarina paled. She looked at Talon with disbelief.

"Really?" She asked timidly.

"YES!" Talon facepalmed. "You have to get to him fast too, since you killed one, the rest would all be on their guards!"

Katarina paled even more. Her hand shot to her mouth, and her gaze lost focus.

"It's _that_ bad?" Katarina murmured.

Talon sighed. He couldn't stand seeing Katarina like this anymore than he could stand Demacians. He shook Katarina to get her attention again.

"I'll go with you," He told her, "We do this together. We can still fix this!"

Katarina was at a loss for words, still devastated over the possible outcomes of her rash action. She nodded, distracted, and Talon led her away to continue on their mission. The duo slipped out of the town and hired the first carriage they saw.

They paid double to go as fast as they could, and arrived at Katarina's original destination three days later. However, when they got out of the carriage, the city greeting them was broken and wounded. A majority of the soldiers were injured, some too severely to ever join the battle. Heaps of bodies hinted at the terrible casualties; The moans of the wounded permeated the entire setting. Every family mourned for a lost member in the military. The more they saw, the sicker Katarina looked. In the end, she was a unhealthy shade of marble white, her eyes filled with tears.

"I, I caused all this!" She finally cried when they were away from all the citizens. "It's all my fault-"

"You didn't kill any of them!" Talon shouted. He stared Katarina dead in the eyes. "Yes, you failed to protect these people, but we can still avenge them!"

Katarina looked back at him, momentarily abandoning her grief.

"How?" Katarina asked, her voice lost and sad.

"We take out your target," Talon said, "his march stops here."

"Yes," Katarina spoke, slowly and angrily. "Yes it does."

Talon woke with a start, forehead beaded with sweat.. He could feel that _something_ was definitely not right-he could sense it, a stingling, evasive anxiousness in the pit of his gut. It was the not-quite-human part of his heritage warning him of incoming trouble, a supernatural gut feeling that told him the sky was crumbling from the impending disaster. It was moments like this that Talon realized how much he was like Evelynn.

But Talon didn't have time to brood over the fact that he wasn't fully human. He knew that instincts like these only worked when _huge_ troubles were on the horizon. He learned this particular lesson the hard way, after not giving a second though to these gut feelings and then almost dying on more than one occasion. He stood and dressed,; no time to waste here. He needed to get Katarina up and ready as well and face this trouble together. He dressed and almost sprinted to knock on the door next to his. When he was certain that Katarina was too asleep to answer, he kicked open the door and went inside.

Katarina wasn't there.

Panic rose in Talon's throat, like he was regurgitating a slow poison.

"Kat?" No reply. Talon gritted his teeth and walked into the room. It was bearable, but still on the messy side compared to Talon's own room. It was still full of Kataraina's belongings with no sign of violence.; she planned on returning. It was just a bit strange that she took all her weapons-wait, she took all her weapons...

Talon bristled. He growled in outrage to himself as he flew out of the room, running at full speed out of the Inn. For the second time, Katarina managed to leave without alerting him, and this time, she might be on suicidal confrontation with an entire legion of Demacians. The night concealed him as he ran on to the campsite they spotted during the day.

When he arrived, he knew he was too late. He could hear the sound of battle, even though he was on a branch almost a hundred yards away. He growled in frustration again, and dove off the branch, running as fast as his legs would carry him toward the campsite. As got even closer, the distinct red of Katarina's hair-she was being a hotheaded child after all. However, for some strange reason, Talon's sense of unease and anxiousness skyrocketed when he moved closer and closer to the battlefield. He didn't-

Then he saw a tall, handsome man, perhaps Katarina's target, with an ornate rapier moving toward Katarina. He approached Katarina with caution and stealth, slowly positioning his rapier for a deadly blow. Talon let out a guttural scream as he tried to run even faster.

"KAT! BEHIND YOU!" he yelled above the clash of steel.

He was a bit too late.

Katarina heard him and spun around, her daggers raised, but the Demacian already started his strike. Katarina's daggers only managed to guide the blade slightly away from her head, but it still slipped over her left eye. She cried out in pain and stumbled. Blood flew, spreading the red of her hair in a disturbing radius. She took a few shakey steps back, dropping a dagger and clutching the left side of her face. Talon watched in dazed horror as the General grinned with evil glee and move in to finish Katarina off. Blinded and in pain, Katarina lost her balance with one more step. She fell to the ground, and was out cold.

Talon's eye went bloodshot. Uttering an inhuman roar of absolute hatred and fury, he brought himself directly behind the Demacian General. The older man had no time to react before Talon sank his armblade into the unprotected back of the disgusting Demacian. Then, Talon twisted his armblade in the Demacian's body, drawing a sharp gasp of pain from the already paralyzed general. With strengths he never knew he possessed, he forcefully led his blade sideways, almost cutting the Demacian general in half. Another shriek of pain. Talon enjoyed it, but the rest of the small army seemed to realize that their leader was being tortured to death in front of their very eyes. They shouted insults and commanded Talon to surrender as they moved in, spears ready. Talon found their efforts pathetic-he suddenly felt so above all these men; they were but swines and maggots compared to him.

As the murderous points closed in on him, he laughed mockingly, and a rippling shockwave blasted through the air as Talon disappeared from view. But the shockwave was not the main actor of the show-it was those blades, hidden in the fold of Talon's clothes and under his light armor, now being sent flying in every direction by the force of the blast. A total of eight blades found their marks. Three plunged into the Demacian general, ending his misery. Five others slit the throat or pierced the stomach of Demacians all around Talon.

The worst came when Talon reappeared. The force that sent out the blades sucked on the blades with impossible power, tugging the blades back so six springs of blood squirted out like fountains. Nasty red tainted Talon's armor, but he let them wash over him-this was the Noxian medal, the best award for a brave soldier.

The first kills were like a spark on dry wood, igniting Talon's fury, bringing his desire to kill everything in sight to new heights. His eyes, which were already bloodshot when Katarina wen down, now burned with an unhealthy shade of red.

Beofre the rest of the Demacian army could register the sudden strike, he was moving again. Another victim fell to his ruthless blade. He was cutting them down one by one, not giving them to pinpoint his location. The night veiled him as he killed, and for the first time, General Du Couteau's orders did not matter anymore. To hell with not killing to many; to hell with avoiding war. The only thing _he _knew was that the dear redhead was motionless and bleeding on the ground. As far as he was concerned, he could kill the entire nation of Demacia in his anger.

Sometime during the massacre, Talon began to throw blades in addition to his lethal close-combat stabbings. His chucked his own daggers, speartips of fallen enemies-anything that could kill, he scored kills with. He was a nuclear bomb in the crowd, reaping yet another Demacian with every other breath. If Katarina was to die from the General's lowly attack, this entire legion would die alongside her.

The soldiers became terrified of Talon. Although they outnumbered the young lad five hundred to one, his stealth and power made it impossible to fight back. Spearing him from every direction had the risk of killing allies, and they needed every last man to fight Talon. Finally, at the crack of dawn, the soldiers realized that they have but a fraction of their original force, and started their retreat. Talon gave chase for a short while, his eyes red as a rose, his blade already a shade deeper from all the blood it drank.

That day, the Demacians lost over five hundred men and a high-ranking General to two people still in their late teens. However, Talon could not smile. He walked over to where Katarina had fallen and picked her up. She was limp and broken in his arms, blood caked on the side of her face. Her usually beautiful red hair was a mess from the fighting, and slight cuts and bruises was all over her body. Her horrible condition tugged at Talon's heart-he thought he'd lost the ability to mourn the day he killed Kayvn, but obviously, he was wrong.

Talon returned to the Du Couteau household, a cloud of sadness hanging over his head. Katarina breathed, but never woke up on the trip back.


	8. Chapter 8--Departure

"I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY DAUGHTER!" For the first time in five, maybe six years, General Du Couteau lost his composure. As soon as Katarina was secured in the infirmary, he led Talon out of the room, grabbed Talon by the shoulder and slammed Talon against the wall. Talon showed no sign that he felt the impact. He only looked down in shame.

"I am sorry," Talon whispered, "I failed you-"

And then the General's angry face went slack. He leaned back and closed his eyes, withdrawing his powerful hands.

"I didn't mean to-I, she, I know she's a handful," After a while of silence, the General began, "But, I, I can't bear to lose her. I lost her mother already."

Talon looked up, and was surprised to behold the tears in the General's eyes. From what Talon had hear, the General's wife was a loving and gentle woman who taught the General all his civility. She turned a hard soldier into a father and mentor, and then left the word after giving birth to Cassiopeia. Although he knew this much, Talon did not expect the General to express his feelings so boldly.

"You won't." Talon said.

The General shook his head, and in the light, Talon could see the white beginning to show in General Du Couteau's hair.

"I hope so." The General replied, a bit lost in his memories and concerns. Then he put a hand on Talon's shoulder. "Get yourself patched up and have a good night sleep. Tomorrow you can report everything to me."

The General went back into the infirmary where Katarina laid. Even outside, Talon could hear the anguished sobbing of Cassiopeia. He winced. Sleep might do him good-he hoped to throw these emotions behind by temporarily fading away from the outside world.

"...and Katarina managed to sneak out without waking me." Talon grumbled, covering his face with his hand. "I went to find her; I knew she would be going for that Demacian, since she felt so bad about it all-"

"She confronted the small army, alone?" General Du Couteau exclaimed.

"Yes." Talon nodded. "And I got there too late. The Lowly Demacian already snuck up on her..."

Talon's voiced faded. He did not want to describe to the General how her daughter was injured and fell in combat. He did not want to burden his mentor with the details of the gruesome wound.

"And?" The general encouraged Talon to continue his tale. "There's got to be more to it, right?"

"I killed the rest of the Demacians." Talon finally finished.

"On your own?" The general asked. "All of them?"

"Yes," Talon answered with a bit of guilt. "I know you said to not kill too many-"

"Ha!" The general suddenly laughed, "Screw that! I was only worried that you would bite off more than you can chew! If you can kill them all, DO IT!"

Talon stared at the general for a second. Then he cracked a sincere smile. The general cared so much for him, it warmed his heart.

"You are really impressive, Talon."

The General's praise was sudden and brusque, catching Talon off guard. Before Talon could react, he continued.

"You grew up in the slums, with little food, terrible health condition, and people at your throat every day." The general said, "To think that you made it this far with such a low starting point-it is truly amazing."

The General stood, rising from his comfortable armchair, and turned away from Talon to face his huge window, his hands behind his back. He stood proud and tall, his back straight, his posture stern.

"And it made me proud." He concluded. "I feel so proud of myself that I had enough wisdom to pick you out of that hellhole of a life. I feel so of you because you improved so fast under me. Kat may be able to fight you, but if I pit you two against each other in a real war, your cool, your calculation, and how _fast_ you are would definitely destroy her. Not even I could've taught you some of what you know."

Talon looked at the general, his jaw slightly ajar. He could cry now from how happy he was, being praised like this by the General.

"Some time during these years with you," The General said, "You became less like a part of my guards, and more like a part of my family. Now, you are truly like a son to me."

The General turned back. For some reason, he looked sad, even guilty. He looked at Talon, with real pleading in his eyes.

"I have one last favor to ask of you," The General said grimly, "And I ask you for this because you are the most competent out of my three children."

"What, what is it?" Talon stumbled over his words.

"Answer the draft in place of Katarina," The General closed his eyes in remorse. "I'm sorry, Talon, I cannot let her join the war against Ionia while she is still such a rash child. You, on the other hand, you are perfect-there really isn't much more I can teach you."

"And why would I say no?" Talon's eyes glinted. He will never doubt the General's words, so these words now made him internally combust with pride.

"I would love to join an actual war." Talon continued. "General, as I get older, I can feel my less human side. I can feel the Shadow Isle's supernatural claim, especially when I use Evelynn's gift. I need to fight and kill; it is in my veins."

"Very well," The general muttered half-heartedly, "just don't get into too much trouble; follow the orders of your superiors-pretend like they are me."

"For you, I will." Talon answered.

"And I am forever grateful that you are such a devoted child." The General laughed, humorless. "But do promise me to return alive and well, Talon. Again, I see you as one of my own, and I cannot bare you getting hurt on battlefield anymore than I can bear Kat or Cassie getting hurt-"

"I promise." Talon stated. "I can take care of myself, sir, no need to worry!"

"I know, I know." The General sighed. "But I really can't help it. You are going to war! Off into the battlefield! I've been there, and I know how dangerous it is, and that makes everything so much worse."

Talon didn't answer that. He couldn't answer to that. The General spoke like a worried parent, and anybody with even the tiniest glimmer of compassion in them would be moved and silenced by the sentiments of a parent. He only looked at the General, at a loss of words. The General acknowledged Talon's awkwardness with a nod.

"You should go now, boy." The General commanded like usual. "Prepare yourself. Pack, and be ready for double your usual combat training."

"Sir," Talon called out, after a moment of hesitation.

"Yes?" The General raised an eyebrow.

"Kat-" Talon began. The general interrupted him with a laugh.

"Oh, don't worry about her." The General assured, "I'll have join some small scale battles closer to home."

"You've already got everything planned out, haven't you?" Talon shook his head.

"Like always." The general answered with a smirk.

Another three days passed before Katarina woke. Her first question was "I'm not dead?", which made Cassiopeia burst out laughing. In barely a day, she was back on her feet, demanding a good spar and some beer.

Now, Katarina and Talon were standing on the rooftop, both staring off into the horizon. Katarina's left eye was completely covered with a patch, but she claimed that she could feel her eyeball just fine. She didn't act like it bothered her, either. However, when she learned that Talon was leaving for the military, she threw quite a fit and refused to talk to anyone since then. Today was the day Talon would go to join the army, and she finally stopped her silent treatment.

"So," Katarina started, "father's sending you off to war instead of me."

Talon shifted uncomfortably.

"Yea," He answered, "something along those lines."

Katrina pursed her lips. She did not look happy.

"It's not that he doesn't trust your abilities!" Talon explained hastily. "He, he said that he wanted you close because your mother-"

"I know what he wants and why." Katarina said drily. "But honestly, I don't think I'm ready for war either."

"Really?" Talon eyed her skeptically.

"I'm too bold, too upfront with everything." Katarina grumbled, "I don't have enough assassin in me to be efficient in battle. I'm probably better off at home, training, being sheltered."

"No-"

"Talon," Katarina closed her eyes, "it is very unlike you to try to make me feel better, and frankly, you suck at it. But really, I'm fine with things the way they are."

Talon heaved a sigh.

"Whatever you say," He snickered. "but really, stay safe. Don't let people sneak up on you again."

Katarina turned around to face Talon. Facing the sun, he couldn't see her face clearly, but he heard a slight chocking in Katarina's voice.

"You too," She murmured with a hint of concern. "Don't, don't die out there. Also, thanks for subbing me out, I guess. I hope I can improve and join you soon."

"Aw, both Talon and Kitty Kat getting sentimental!"

"Cassi!" Katarina cried, shocked, "Why are _you_ here?"

"Wow, Kat!" Cassiopeia cired with mock hurt, "Am I not allowed to give Talon a proper send off? Are you two excluding me, _again_?"

"No, but!" Katarina was red and speechless at this point.

"Since when did I _ever_ exclude you?" Talon grinned at the blond girl. Cassiopeia squeaked and gave Talon a hug. Talon blushed.

"Be good at home, don't cause trouble-" He began.

And Katarina tackled Talon in a hug as well. She buried her face in Talon's shoulder, but she was shaking. _So this is why people hate goodbyes so much,_ Talon mused. He tried his best to stay upbeat.

"Come on, you big softies!" He said, "It's not like I'm _doomed_ out there!"

"I am _not_ a big softy!" Katarina glared at him, her one visible eye red and shining with tears. Cassiopeia just hugged Talon tighter without a word. The three enjoyed the moment. It was the most emotional one they've had together-and quite possibly the last they would share as siblings, before they all grow up and move on to serve Noxus in their own ways. Then the General swooped down in front of the three. For some reason, he too joined the group hug.

A while later, Talon withdrew from the circle. He steeled his nerves and spoke.

"I am ready."

"By the way," The General said sheepishly, "I signed you up for a special force under General Jericho Swain. I think you would like a small group better, eh?"

"Thanks," Talon smiled.

"Any time, kiddo." The general cracked a smile himself. "Now let's get you to the dock before the boat sails off without you!"

And just like that, they were off. The General dropped him off in front of a check-in tent, and went back home. Talon stared at the General's retreating figure, wishing to all the gods and spirits that this would not be his last time seeing the General.


	9. Chapter 9--Riven!

"Do you wish to join the Crimson Elite?" The man behind the desk asked Talon. This man introduced himself as Jericho Swain, but so far, Talon sensed nothing worthy of being a peer of General Du Couteau.

"Yes," Talon reverted back to his curt, emotionless one word answers. If he would describe Swain with one word-repulsing.

"And what house are you under?" Swain inquired again, a certain disgusting quality never fading from his voice.

"Du Couteau." Talon replied.

"Splendid," Swain clasped his hands together, a businessman smile pasted on his sickly, yellowish face. "Come this way, young assassin, you will get your uniform right away."

Talon's gaze sharpened. His eyes bore into Swain, and then nodded brusquely. He did not like the commanding undertone Swain spoke with, but he was not about the get into trouble and shame General Du Couteau.

He followed Swain out of the check-in tent and into a large auditorium full of young men and women preparing for war. Talon scowled at the crowd, but said nothing. Swain completely ignored Talon's obvious discomfort as he led Talon through the sea of Noxians and stopped in front of a rather small room that was located in an obscure corner.

"This is the reserved resting room for the Crimson Elites," Swain explained, "a few others are here already-there's also a surprise in there, I think you will recognize her."

Swain smiled at Talon, but it was humorless and repelling. Talon couldn't help but wince as Swain turned away-he did not know why General Du Couteaue would want him under this man. Shaking his head, Talon entered the room.

The door opened with a rather loud click, contrasting with Talon's quiet steps. The people in the room all turned, looking at Talon guardedly. These people are all around the same age, and all clad in black and red uniforms embroidered with intricate white lines. Some had helmets, others had headwears that were more decorative than anything-but these were all golden. Talon stepped forward, soundless as a ghost and emotionless as a corpse. The group tensed.

A girl with shoulder-length white hair stood up. At first sight, she did not look like a Noxian at at all. She was cute-yes, _cute_, wearing a innocent, warm smile. She had a kind of "nice person" look that did not belong in a natoin worshipping strength and warfare. Her cuddly, harmless aura made Talon a bit hesitant when she reached out to shake his hand. He tried to, but he found that he somehow couldn't resist the girl. It was not the stupid "love at first sight" that Cassiopeia was so interested in; it was more like this girl had an air of superiority. Without intending to, she carried herself like a leader, and it was hypnotizing to some degree.

Talon shook her hand. This girl looked familiar somehow. Talon never truly knew anyone outside of the Du Couteau household, so he was quite surprised that he could almost name this girl. It was at the tip of his tongue-he was sure he had seen her _somewhere_ before.

"You _are_ one of us, right?" The girl suddenly scratched her head, like she forgot something important.

"Crimson Elite? Yes." Talon said.

"Welcome!" The girl told him. The rest of the group did not look like they appreciated her un-Noxian warmness, but they did not speak up.

"I'm Riven," the girl added. And then, everything clicked. Riven, the poster child of Noxus, the war prodigy. Having been bestowed the huge black stone rune sword for her efforts, her determination, and her skill, Riven was the star to look up to for every Noxian child. She was often seen on propagandas with the words "the strong survives" and "the true Noxian way". Talon was no different-he admired Riven with a passion back in the days with Kayvn. He saw Riven's pictures, and he had hope that he one day rise out of the slums as well. Now, after training with General Du Couteau, Talon realized that this dream, forgotten after killing Kayvn, had come true. He could not give a verbal answer for a second, only looking at Riven with wide eyes.

"Heh, I know, I know." Riven rolled her eyes. "Wow, Riven! So cool! Killing genius! Really, it's no big deal!"

"No, no big deal?" Talon chocked. "You do realize that you are the hero, even god, of 99% of this generation?"

"Oh, man!" Riven cried, "Why can't you just drop it! I served for a few more years, I did a bit better, I had a bit less to begin with, but can we move on from that? Ever?"

To emphasize her unhappiness, Riven glared at everyone else around the room. Nobody dared to make eye contact with her. She sighed exasperatedly.

"See?" She gestured to all the fearful, respectful members of the Crimson Elite. "You all over-idolize me!"

"Being too humble is a way of being arrogant." Talon told her drily. "Let me admire you for one more minute, please."

Riven growled. Then she seemed to remember something rather outrageous.

"Hey! You haven't told me your name yet!" She yelled.

"Talon." Talon said, still staring at Riven in awe. He knew this was not right, and this is completely unlike him, but he couldn't help but continue observing the idol of every Noxian youngster. Riven probably felt his gaze discomforting. She inched away from Talon, and when she felt like she was far enough, she sprinted into a smaller room, near the end of the resting room, which Talon had not noticed before. A moment later, she ran back out with some black clothes in her hands.

"Go change," She ordered, "we are leaving soon. And _don't_ look at me like that anymore! Nothing is more creepy-"

Talon was already gone. His split-second passion and disbelief faded away, and he managed to retreat into his shell of silent reclusiveness. He showed enough emotion to Riven, actually, to everyone in this "Crimson Elite" for his entire life. It is now time to stop gawking like a fool and continue upholding the name of the Du Couteau house.

"Everybody ready?" Talon heard Riven yell outside. Collective "Aye" and "Yes" rang throughout the room, deafening even though there were twenty people at most. Talon hastily pulled on his golden helmet. It was a rather gruesome mask that covered his whole head, and he absolutely loved the anonymity it offered. Behind it, Talon felt security.

"Talon!" Riven called.

Talon stepped out of the room. He cracked his neck.

"Yes," He muttered, a thirst for blood lingering in his voice, "lead me to battle, hero."

To Talon's great disappointment, Riven did not lead them to anywhere to drift off into the bliss of combat. Instead, she took the group to a huge ship, docked at the huge harbor behind the auditorium for soldiers-to-be. The small group boarded the gigantic vessel-Talon felt that it was a bit too big for a their number, but once he was on, he realized that much of the boat was just open space with the signature metal floor of a sparring ring.

Talon was still taking in his surroundings when the boat rocked. He grabbed the nearest solid object, which was one of the three masts, and looked around wildly. For a moment, he thought that there was someone attacking the boat.

"Relax!" Riven laughed at Talon's vigilance. "The ship's just getting out of the harbor! Wait, is this your first time sailing off?"

"I infiltrate ships," Talon somehow found the urge to defend himself as he clung a little tighter to the mast, "I don't travel on them."

Talon shook his head, admiring how his childhood hero was standing with perfect balance, not holding onto anything as the ship was tossed around. Riven briefly introduced the structure of the ship, and then assigned room numbers to each of the Crimson Elites. As she answered questions like she had been sailing off to war every other day of her life, one of the Elites spoke up.

"Sir," the member said humbly, "I do not doubt your ability to lead us, but isn't there an actual soldier, maybe a General, that is in charge?"

Riven gave him a very classic "are you crazy" look.

"We _are_ actual soldiers." She said with a hint of laughter in her voice. "Did you think the draft was some extension of the military academy? This is when you man up and become useful to Noxus!"

The male who asked that question paled. Several others appeared just as terrified upon hearing Riven's words, and Talon almost laughed out loud at their weakness. These people were going to die with their current attitude.

After Riven dismissed the group, Talon went out to seek sparring partners. He needed violence to quell his boredom and discomfort of sailing, and he also wanted to see what his comrades were made of. Most of all, Talon did not want anyone recognizing him and then starting a "street rat" chant-his backstory was not a secret to the Noxus High Commands, and he highly doubted that the next generation of leaders would leave their home without knowing who would fight beside them.

His first opponent was a tall, bulky oaf with an equally large mace. Talon had to crane his neck to even see the chin of the fellow.

"Hey, little guy," The oaf taunted as they entered the ring, "you wanna fight me?"

Five seconds into the fight, Talon's armblade was at the oaf's throat. Talon felt the adam apple bob as the oaf swallowed nervously. The oaf hastily admitted defeat.

Talon managed to find another partner, but this time it took quite a while longer. It seemed that nobody wanted to challenge him anymore. This time, his fight with a slender swordsman lasted considerably longer. 15 seconds, to be precise. Talon apparated behind the swordsman and gently placed his armblade at the small of the swordsman's back.

"You win," The swordsman said immediately.

After that, not a soul answered Talon's request at a duel. It quickly became frustrating enough that Talon asked for multiple opponents at once, but still, no one complied. Talon's patience ran thin; he could tolerate cowards as much as he could tolerate Demacians. He was about to forcefully start a "friendly sparring session" when Riven came by.

"I will gladly answer your challenge." She stated. "It's been a while since anyone had enough balls to warm up with me."

Talon grimaced at Riven's word choice, but kept his opinions to himself as he eyed her monstrously large weapon. He doubted that he could take a direct hit from it. All she needed to do was drop the blade on him, and his spine would probably snap.

"OK," he replied.

They walked into the closest ring. Riven was swishing her blade like a jolly little girl, but when she accidentally struck the floor, Talon saw that she left a gash on the metal. He hoped that he wouldn't take a strike like that.

"Can we start?" Riven asked. Talon nodded in response.

Riven flew at him, quite literally. She kicked off with so much momentum that her dash covered the entire distance between her and Talon, and brought her runic blade down in a brutal arc. Talon blinked behind her and made a quick swipe with his armblade in one fluid motion, but Riven carried herself out of Talon reach with her charge. She turned and struck once more. Talon jumped back, and Riven followed with a third strike without a moment of hesitation. Talon ducked under the blow and tried to swing his armblade into her side. His blade was infinitely close to leaving a nasty little mark when Riven yelled.

The sound of the fierce battle cry slammed into Talon, and he froze. He felt like he was struck by a hammer. He didn't even know what hit him, only that his body was momentarily out of his control. His attack failed, and be barely recovered enough to get out of the way of Riven's blade.

Talon retreated. He shook his head violently, trying to get rid of this dizziness that came from nowhere.

"Nice!" Riven said, impressed. "I thought I had you there!"

Talon moved his arms a bit. After he made sure that he had full control of himself again, he tried blinking behind Riven for an attack a second time. Riven reacted lightning fast and blocked his armblade. She pushed him back with a mightly shove, and raised her blade. The runic symbols began to glow green. She swung.

The blast of light that followed was blinding, quick, and painful. Talon intercepted it with three of his throwing knives, but it barely made a difference. Talon had to face the blow, and its force almost disabled him. His arm spasmed from the strain. Before he could pull himself together, Riven was in his face, her blade ready.

"I surrender." Talon told her. She stopped, blinked in surprise, and then fumed in anger.

"That's it?" She demanded, "That _cannot_ be all you can do, right? I've heard about you, the pride of General Du Couteau, you-"

"Lost." Talon finished for her.

"Come on!" Riven punched him on the shoulder. "You did some crazy sick stuff, and you could not have done it with just those moves-"

"No, I couldn't have." Talon interrupted her a second time.

"So-"

"Not, here!" Talon lowered his voice. He did not want to announce to the world that he had some Shadow Isle in him. The General managed to keep his little secret for him, and he did not want to ruin the lovely privacy. It still made him self-conscious to think that he wasn't fully human.

"Then where?" Riven huffed.

"When I have no other choice." Talon whispered.

"But this isn't even fair!" Riven yelled after him, "I showed you everything! I threw everything at you, and you're still holding back? What-"

Talon face-palmed. The _smack_ his hand made against his helmet finally made Riven notice just how immature she was acting. She looked around. All the members of the Crimson Elite were trying to look like they heard and saw nothing, but their unnatural indifference made it clear that they heard, and they saw.

"Oh, Go bellow deck already!" Riven cracked her knuckles. "None of that happened, you all got that?"

"YES!" The group shouted collectively.

Talon sneered under his mask. These submissive, fearful amateurs were not going to survive this war. They were going to die out there, and Talon would have to live through the trouble these incompetent teammates were bound to bring. _Just like Kayvn,_ Talon thought, except these people were not born into the wrong country. They did not deserve to live anywhere

But Talon was a survivor. He would not let these burdens they call soldiers weight him down. He survived the slums, he survived Evelynn, and countless missions that threatened his life. Most importantly, he had people to return to. He made a promise to go back to them, and he wasn't going to break a promise to the only little bunch of people that cared about him.


	10. Chapter 10--Ionian War

Five years into the Ionian War, the Crimson Elites had only two left. All beside Riven and Talon have been slain in combat, just like Talon predicted. The two survivors were still clad in the black and red uniform with golden headgear, but those were around the 12th set they went through. The outfit protected against the environment and nothing else, so in combat, they never last. Their weapons had to be reforged multiple times, too. Neither would get rid of their precious blades, so when damaged in the intense combat, they were left empty-handed for a while.

Looking out from the rather empty tent labeled "CE", Talon could see that the war did not just leave scar on the Noxians. The land itself was in ruins, no longer a paradise that all dreamed to live in. Ionia's famous richness of culture was no more due to the war efforts. Its resources were wasted in the long, grinding battles. Rivers were contaminated, and the soil became a dark maroon mush from the amount of casualty. No plant would grow on this blood-soaked land for years, maybe even decades. Talon didn't know-

"Whachya lookin' at?" A female voice called from behind Talon. It was warm, but a bit husky. Talon knew the voice. Riven's voice.

"Nothing." Talon replied.

"Don't you get bored, just brooding all day?" Riven complained. "I've personally never met anyone as, well, you know, dead, as you!"

"You do this too," Talon turned to Riven with a dry smile.

"Yeah," Riven admitted. She bit her lips.

"What's on _your_ mind?" Talon asked.

Riven looked a bit hesitant. She scanned the surrounding to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on them, but realized that nobody else lived this long to share the huge tent with them. She sighed.

"The war." She admitted. "I feel like, I dunno, I feel like something's wrong."

Talon looked at her, waiting for more.

"There's so much death!" Riven cried. "This is not a honorable contest of two nation's strength-do you see the Zaunites? They kill children and the elderly! And they're not even from Noxus!"

"But they win the war," Talon cut in.

"But it's wrong!" Riven covered her face. "I didn't sign up for this. This isn't the war I always loved. This is just murder!"

"No," Talon grabbed Riven's shoulders and made her look into his eyes. "you told us the first day our group came together that this is our service to Noxus. This is a sacrifice."

Riven just stared at him. Then, without any warning, she began to _weep_. Talon's jaw dropped just for a second, but he managed his shock as fast as he could for poor, crying, Riven's sake.

"S-Sometimes, I, I hate Noxus." She said between her sobs. "It didn't give me anything but this weapon, I don't want to fight for it in such a evil war!"

"We have no choice." Talon replied sternly. "Noxus gave me nothing, either. I think you should know-"

"Yes," Riven nodded softly. "You were a street rat, just like me. So why do you fight this war? What drives _your_ blade?"

"This is a favor to General Du Couteau."

Another moment of silence.

"Why?" Riven pressed. She seemed to think that if she could understand Talon's purpose, she could find hers as well.

Talon considered the question. He looked at his shoes for a bit, and then back at Riven.

"I owe him. My skills, my life. Everything." He stated. "He's also the closest thing I have to a father."

"Makes me sorta jealous." Riven grumbled. "Nobody pickin' _me_ off the streets."

"I'm sure you can live without it." Talon patted her back. "Sometimes things like family ties you down."

"I'd much rather be tied down to a bunch of people that love me." Riven rolled her eyes. "You just don't care since you already have it."

"Like how you don't care for your fame." Talon teased. Riven puffed, temporarily allowing herself to be entertained by Talon. Then, she seemed to recall something even more disturbing. Her face fell.

"Where are you going after the draft is up?" She questioned. "More war?"

"I shall report back to the General." Talon told her. "My service is for a lifetime."

Riven tried to hide her disappointment. She failed so miserably that even she noticed it herself. She tried to cover it up.

"Pity," She pouted, "I quite enjoy having you watch my back."

"I never "watched your back"." Talon objected. "I never got to take any arrows for _you_."

"There'll be a time for that." Riven waved the statement aside. "You'll just have to remember you owe me too."

"You do realize," Talon raised an eyebrow, "that this is _my_ last day in the army? My five-year draft is done."

The pause that followed made Talon think that he said something extremely offensive or wrong. Riven just stood there and glared at him, and Talon almost expected her to hit him. It had happened before.

"Really?" Riven suddenly yelled, throwing her hands in the air in outrage. "Five years on the front line with me, all those life and death situations, and you take going away so lightly? Am I even close to a friend?"

Talon took a small step back. He didn't want a broken bone somewhere on his last day of serving in the army. He raised his hands in defeat, but Riven did give him time to defend himself, both verbally and physically. She slugged him on the shoulder and then stomped out of the tent. Talon stared at her in confusion. _What is with her_, he thought as he rubbed his shoulder. He was just stating the truth, even the obvious-did that tick her off? He shook his head. As good as he was in combat, he could not solve all of life's mysteries, at least, not right now. He was barely processing the fact that Riven, the symbol of Noxian strength, had cried in front of him and confessed her doubts. Sometimes all these great people showing weakness, made Talon doubt the Noxian way of strength above all.

Then the war drums sounded. The low, resonating boom permeated the entire camp site, and Talon stiffened. Then he sighed, unsure if he should be content or enraged. The last day of his draft, and there was an Ionian attack. He knew he asked for all the fighting when he agreed to take Katarina's place in the force sent to Ionia, but he did not expect it as a send-off. He attached his armblade, stroking it subconciously as he moved to join the Noxian force. Before anyone saw his face, he pulled on his helmet.

Time to do what he did best.

Riven rejoined him as they grouped up to face the assault. She still looked downright miserable.

"The scout said that they saw Irelia and Master Yi." Riven stated, matter-of-factly.

Talon curled his lips under the golden mask.

"What do they want?" He sneered at the Ionian names.

"Bloody."

Talon would want to know more, but then a group of people appeared on the horizon. It was a full army, complete with riders, archers, and footmen. In the very front, a woman in red and white armor led the charge, blades floating next to her like a tamed lion. Beside her was a man with a bizarre mask and a sword. He wore light armor that allowed maximum maneuverability.

The Noxian General was shouting commands. Talon waited his turn to be directed like a pawn on the chessboard.

"Crimson Elites," Came the order, "lead a small force and flank the enemy!"

Riven and Talon moved out, but before they went into the fray, Talon grabbed Riven's arm.

"Watch out when you fight," he told her, the ice melting from his voice, "return to me. I can tie you down if you'd like."

Riven looked at him, and smiled like a little girl. Her sweet, innocent, grin stood out garishly against the background of bloodshed and battle cries.

"Of course." She hefted her blade. "But you do the same."

Then she charged, leaping into a circle of half a dozen Ionian warriors. They roared and drove their spears at her, but she swung her blade, and all six fell simultaneously. She raised her blade.

"Noxus!" She cried. The small group behind her picked up the chant. Talon stayed solemn and quiet, but his eye shone with the same fierceness as Riven. He blinked behind a Ionian that had already slain a few Noxians. Before the Ionian could even scream, Talon blade severed the spine above the heart, and the Ionian fell. Talon lashed out again. Nobody stood a chance against his inhuman ability to take lives. Most did not even see Talon. He was the embodiment of swift death.

The Ionian leaders seemed to notice the slaughter taking place at their left. The two that led the group, Master Yi and Irelia, made their way over to put an end to the two Crimson Elites driving into their side like a dagger. Riven yelled a challenge and slashed her way toward the two. Talon followed, taking his time to snipe down Ionians with a few throwing knives here and there.

The soldiers from both sides backed away as their top fighters clashed. Riven went for Irelia; they've fought before, and Riven would always go on and on about wanting a rematch. Their weapons slammed into each other like siege hammers, and for a split second, Talon thought the world was collapsing.

"Are you ready?" The man with the sword, Master Yi, called to Talon. Talon gave no response. He vanished and reappeared behind Yi, his blade posing for a killing blow. Yi parried without turning, and Talon immediately backed off. Yi followed Talon before he could blink, and Talon was knocked back by the force of Yi's strike.

On the bright side, Yi didn't seem to be able to use that move again any time soon. However, even without the fancy dash, Yi's attacks were still oppressively strong. Talon was forced to start retreating as Yi began to swing faster and faster. The Ionian sword master's attacks began to send numbness down Talon's bladed arm. This could not go on.

Talon dished out three spinning blades. Yi ducked under them and continued his advance.

Talon smiled humorlessly as he tugged on the thin, almost invisible wires connected to the blades, and the blades immediately began to fly back to him like three deadly, pointly boomerangs. Yi reacted to it, but not fast enough. One of it caught Yi hard on the shoulder, and he stumbled, falling onto his knees. Talon went in with this small window of opportunity, driving his armblade forward to puncture a vital organ so he could move to help Riven. Yi was temporarily incapacitated from the piercing blade, and Talon's arm blade went for the downed swordsman. Nothing would be able to stop the spilling of Ionian blood today.

Talon's weapon made contact with Yi's soft armor, punching through it without a pause. It touched Yi's now unprotected flesh.

_Clang!_

The blade slammed against flesh, but the sound of metal clashing was heard instead of the sickening _slick_ of drawing blood. Talon immediately pulled his blade back and returned to a safe distance. He watched in bemusement as Yi began to glow. In but a breath, Yi was completely cover in the a sphere of purple light, concealed from the rest of the world.

When the light faded, Yi was in the same position as he was before this mystical purple light appeared. But now, he was no longer alone. Beside him stood another man, masked and armored, carrying two ninjatos on his back.

"Thank you, Shen." Master Yi said.

"We are only here to preserve the balance." The masked man, Shen, replied.

_We?_

A yelp of surprise came from where Riven was fighting, then a grunt of pain. Talon turned just in time to see another female, also masked, push Riven back with her kamas. Riven would've fallen, but Talon was behind her with his little teleportation, and caught her.

"Who the hell are they?" Talon whispered.

"The Kinkou," Riven said grimly. "I thought they're too busy with some traitor, but-"

"They're not," Talon cut her off. "Retreat?"

"Where do we go?" Riven smiled sadly. "Those ninjas from the Kinkou are all insanely fast. We can get out, but all the regular soldiers would die."

"Why do you care?" Talon couldn't help but ask.

"I can't abandon my comrades," Riven brandished her huge blade at the four Ionians, "I'd sooner die than be leave them behind. You can go, return to your general, I know you're capable-"

"No." Talon stated, emotionless. "I stay and go with you."

"Fair enough," Riven chuckled, "in that case, let's show those people true strength!"

Riven yelled defiantly, and dashed at the four Ionians. The ground cracked from her steps. Irelia answered by directing her animated blades at Riven. Talon's eyes immediately fell onto Yi, but before he could make a move, a blur of movement caught Talon's eyes, and Shen was pushing Talon back, blades drawn, eyes shining silver.

"Your fight is now with me." Shen stated.

Talon sneered, and blinked behind Shen. Shen spun around almost as soon as Talon reappeared, and parried Talon's blow. Talon made another swipe, but Shen countered it just as easily. Seeing that close combat was going to last longer than he like, Talon stepped back and threw his returning blades. It raked Shen's ninjatos, throwing off sparks and making ear-splitting scratching sounds, but did absolutely nothing to harm Shen.

Fast as a flash of light, Shen dashed toward Talon. Somehow, Talon felt cornered, even though he was fighting on flat plains that stretched miles and miles. He felt that his only option was to meet Shen head-on, and to do so without any clever angels or sneaky throwing stars. Shen became the only thing in Talon's vision, the ninjatos going straight for Talon's heart. The metal glinted in the setting sun of the evening, demanding blood of the intruders of Ionia-

Talon snapped out of it and side-stepped at the last second. The ninjato left a gash on Talon's left arm instead of his chest. Talon hissed, clutching his wound, and glided back. His cape billowed around him like protective wings. He needed to end this, before blood loss brought him down. He threw some blades, more to hinder and annoy than to actually harm.

Shen continued his onslaught through the rain of blades. Talon defended as much as he could, occasionally teleporting behind Shen to disorient the stern ninja. Relentless attacks began to make Talon's entire body sore and weak. Talon was too elusive to suffer any other heavy injuries, but he could not land anything on Shen either, and extended fights rarely went in Talon's favor. Slowly, Talon's defense began to waver, and Shen was pushing him back while getting dangerously close to ending the duel. Talon could only grind his teeth and push himself to move faster as Shen pressed on.

Then Talon hear Riven cry out in pain, and all his exhaustion washed away. The cold realization that Riven was facing a situation twice as bad as his dawned onto him, and he abruptly dropped his fight with Shen to aid her.

Riven was on her back, lacerated on both her forearms. Obviously, one the Ionian women did something too fast for Riven to block, so she was forced to take the hit with her arms instead. The one in green, Akali, was moving in, probably to hurt Riven even more, and that might've been what set Talon off.

He howled, an inhuman, blood-curdling sound that brought everyone's attention to him. His fingers curled, tensing, like the claws of some monster.

"You will respect the fight with me-" Shen spoke. Talon cut him short with another murderous screech.

Talon was right behind Akali before her eyes registered anything. He struck out with ferocity that did not belong to men. Akali managed to stop him before he hit her torso, but the particular slash packed enough punch to knocked the kamas out of her hands. On the side, Irelia reacted by making her blades fly at Talon. Talon roared without turning, and to everyone's horrified fascination, disappeared without a trace. A gust of pure force carrying innumerable knives blasted out like a bomb, and Irelia's blades stopped dead in their track.

"That, that is the power of the Shadow Isles!" Yi stuttered on the side. "What is it-"

Talon effectively shut Yi up by reappearing behind Irelia. The blades, Talon's and Irelia's, followed Talon, and slashed the Ionian valkyrie to a bloody mess. Talon turned to Akali again, but his killing blow was thwarted for the second time that day. A shuriken struck him on the back, and he was suddenly unable to feel over half his body, petrified by electricity.

"Kennen." Shen acknowledged.

"I finished the general!" the rapidly approaching Ionian declared. He was unnaturally short, and with a closer glance, his face did _not_ look anymore human than a rodent.

"Good." Akali stood up. "Now we finish these two."

Riven also stood. She moved in front of Talon, unfazed by his display of what was apparently supernatural abilities.

"You will step over my dead body to hurt my comrades." She vowed. Talon wished he could move, to perhaps grab Riven and get out of there, but he couldn't. Yi picked up Irelia as the three Kinkou ninjas made a triangle around Riven and Talon. The confrontation was over. This Noxian camp had been overwhelmed by the Ionian forces. It was time to execute the remaining enemies.

Shen raised his ninjatos.

"A quick death for skillful enemies." He took another step closer.

Riven stood her ground. She held her runic blade in front of her, unfaltering under impending death-

"SURPRISE!"

A strange weapon flew at Shen. It ricocheted off Shen's weapon, but Shen was knocked back. He gripped his ninjatos.

"Show yourself." Shen demanded.

"We're over here, buddy!"

Talon followed the voice, and spotted two men sauntering toward him. One was as solid and burly as a tower, carrying a huge battle axe worthy to be put next to Riven's enormous runic sword. The other man was Talon's height, a bit more muscled, spinning two blades that looked like a mix of scythes and axes. He was smiling like he was the master of everyone he set his eyes on.

"Who are you." Shen inquired, his voice flat as ever.

"You're tellin' me that you don't recognize the great Draven?" the man with a spinning weapons leaned back, utter disbelief on his face. "You'll pay for that insult, you lowly, ugly, disgusting-"

"Be quiet." The man the battle axe said.

With a start, Talon realized who those two were. Darius and Draven, the brothers, the symbol of Noxian strength, two tokens of the destruction Noxus stood for.

"Sir!" Talon greeted with respect. He didn't care about them, but he didn't want to get on their bad side either. They had the same ranking as General Du Couteau.

"What've we got here?" Draven checked out Talon. Then he eyed Riven. "Hey, I know you, that Riven kid, right?"

"Yes, sir!" Riven straightened.

"Good fighting." Darius told them. "Now out of the way."

"What do you want." Shen lifted his ninjatos. "Do you wish to finish this war right here?"

"Nice offer," Draven butted in, "but we ain't got time for that. We've killed some of yours, you've killed some of ours, now screw off if you don't want more trouble."

"What if we do?" Akali threatened.

Draven held his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. Then he slammed a fist into his palm.

"If you do," He gestured wildly as he spoke, "then we fight this out! Easy as one plus one! But just so you know, we sent a hawk to that Zed, I'm pretty sure that he would love to go kill a bit more of your precious Kinkou as you hang around here and have some fun with us!"

Talon could see Shen's grimace even under that mask.

"You know of ways to contact that traitor?"

"Draven knows it all!" Draven boasted.

"What he's trying you tell you," Darius pointed his axe at Shen, "is to go home before we shove weapons down your throat."

"Master Yi," Shen turned around. "I fear for the safety of the Kinkou-"

"Go," Yi said softly. "They won't do much more. The League of Legends is already involved."

Then Shen was gone, without a sound, as though he had never existed. Talon's eyes narrowed. When he looked around, he realized that the other two ninjas were also gone. Yi was supporting Irelia as he called for a retreat.

"Sir," Talon said to Darius indignantly, "are we just going to let them get away like this?"

Darius glared at Talon, and Talon genuinely expected an axe to the face. However, Darius just sighed.

"I like how we both wanna kill'em all, kid." Darius shook his head. "But some bastards ain't fine with killin', so we can't."

"It's only because Draven don't want the pretty Ionian ladies to cry for their sons or husbands." Draven crossed his arms.

"Let's get outta here first." Darius mumbled. "Your part in the Ionian War is over, Du Couteau kid."

"Yes sir." Talon bowed his head.

"Ya leave at midnight, with the other Crimson Elites." Darius continued, then realized there _was_ no other Crimson Elites. "Well, you get the point."


	11. Author's Note

**Hey guys, sorry but this ain't an update on the story. This is my first fic, first time wrting Author Note, etc etc. Basically, I'm saying that this story is written pretty hastily between my games, so it's sorta messed up. Also, I'm really new to this community, I know nobody, I've got no editor, so please, please, please, leave specific ideas on where I should expand the plots, or what extras should I add to make the story flow better. TY.**


	12. Chapter 12--What Have I Returned To

At nightfall, Darius was addressing the beaten Noxian forces.

Talon wasn't really hearing much of anything. His brief rampage left him completely exhausted, and the pain from everything was also beginning to kick in. He sat on his bed in the large but vacant Crimson Elite tent, his hands together, his shoulders stooping. Five years ago, he came here, with twenty some other people his age. Talon could almost smell the life radiating off those ignorant brats, and it only took five years for these silly but pleasant people to become a part of the soil, like Kayvn. He was seriously starting to wonder if that was the rule of this world-that you were automatically doomed to a premature death if you were a decent human being.

Riven walked in, her arms bandaged. _There's the exception,_ Talon thought. After a long day, the so-called manliest woman alive was about the only pleasing sight on the battlefield. She came over and sat down by Talon, drew up her legs and hugged her knees to her chest.

"So," Riven said, "You're leaving soon."

"Oh man," Talon slapped his forehead and replied sarcastically, "thanks for reminding me, I almost forgot."

Riven gave a short burst of laughter, and then sighed.

"But it's gonna be just me." She grumbled. "The last Crimson Elite."

"If you look at it that way-"

"Talon," Riven shushed, "I really hope I'm not the first person to tell you this, but you _suck_ at making people feel better. Don't even bother"

"Flattering," Talon rolled his eyes.

"It's true." Riven slapped him, a bit sheepish.

"How are your arms?" Talon tried to shift to a less depressing subject.

"Been worse." Riven touched her bandages. "I'd bet my blade that the Irelia girl had it a lot worse than me."

Talon said nothing to that.

"But that's the big secret, isn't it?" Riven suddenly stared Talon right in the eyes. It was unsettling. "Those Ionian said something about it being from the Shadow Isles?"

"Yeah," Talon admitted. "I am not all human. I have no idea how, but it just is this way.

"Must be hard." Riven muttered. "No wonder you always act like you never belong anywhere."

"I do belong somewhere." Talon protested. "I just don't like big crowds!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, tough guy." Riven huffed. "But really, how does it feel, to, you know..."

"It feels like nothing." Talon rubbed his face. He wasn't really comfortable with this subject. He felt like he would never be. "It's just the knowledge that's annoying, but other than that, I don't feel monstrous or anything."

"You're not monstrous!" Riven snapped. "You're pretty fun to be around!"

"I'm the _only_ one to be around." Talon corrected.

"At least it's you that survived everything." Riven admitted. "Again, even though you never really make it obvious that you're around, you're the best friend a Noxian can have."

Talon thought Riven hesitated on the word "friend", but he decided that he just imagined it. Riven definitely didn't treat him like a stranger-they had to be friends.

"Now _that's_ actually flattering." Talon smirked. "Guess you do have nice things to say about me after all."

"Oh, stop it." Riven shoved him. She only moved one arm, but she almost knocked Talon down. She laughed again. "You've gotta have more strength than that!"

"Too lazy to use any of it." Talon told her. "Besides, you'll grab me if you really make me fall. You've taken arrows and blades for me before."

"At least I have some armor." Riven blushed. "You woulda died if you took any of those."

"Thanks anyways." Talon said.

"And thankful you should be."

They sat without speaking. Talon almost wished that another Ionian attack would happen, so he could get out of this awkward silence. Simply sitting there, Riven next to him, waiting for the carriage to break them up, he felt something he'd never felt for years. Powerlessness. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to make things a bit less sad. Talon could not make any move to help the situation. He was reminded of the fact that he was still socially impaired, that he could kill and sneak around, but he could never match up with General Du Couteau's skill with people, and he absolutely hated it.

"Hey," Riven poked him, "did you fall asleep?"

"No." He shuffled.

Riven stood. She stretched and cracked her knuckles.

"Then let's get out of here." Riven reached out her hand to lead Talon. Reluctantly, like a doubtful child, Talon took her hand. Five years as back-to-back partners, but he was still unused to such proximity to another human. He laughed at himself mentally.

"Where to?" Talon asked, as Riven led him away.

"I dunno," Riven shrugged, "just a walk, you know, get some fresh air."

Talon shook his head in response, but he was smiling sincerely. He didn't bother grabbing his helmet. He walked next to Riven, falling about half a step behind to show respect for her personal space, but allowed Riven to continue holding onto his hand. It was sort of the least he could do, to not ruin Riven's fragile upbeat attitude by being too reserved.

They walked among the borders of the Noxian campsite. They traveled in silence at first, but Riven managed to save the depressing walk with a playful conversation. Then, Talon seemed to learn how to speak his mind. He somehow did not screw up and say something extremely weird, so Riven was able to keep them talking for the rest of the time.

They went on for a long time, or maybe it was but a few moments. Talon had no idea-he was absorbed by the experience of talking to Riven, to a point that time, distance, and everything else ceased to matter. It was a alien sensation, like he began to see Riven in a different light somehow. She wasn't a bit different from her usual self. The red and black uniform, the headwear lost somewhere in the tent again, a bit of wound to differentiate her from a child-bearing Noxian housewife. She looked the same as she always had, but she felt different. She seemed to almost glow under the pale evening light, and Talon found himself staring, for the first time in his life. He wanted to stare more. He just wanted a bit more of, well, Riven, and nothing more. He even started to dread going back

But alas, the moon rose, and the carriage for the Crimson Elite arrived.

"I guess it's all over." Riven said as they walked toward the carriage, "you're off, everybody else is dead, it's just me now."

"I'll come back for you." Talon said, forgetting to ponder his words before he spoke them. He actually _blushed_. Another first.

"Then I'll wait for you." To Talon surprise, Riven grinned from ear to ear. She almost swelled upon hearing the statement that Talon considered slightly unseemly.

"So it's a deal." Talon concluded.

"A good deal." Riven gave Talon a thumb-up. "Well, have a nice trip!"

"Thank you." Talon cracked a smile. His eyes never left Riven as they made the final steps toward the carriage.

Personally, he was pleased that the goodbye was rather perfect, but Riven, greedy girl, was apparently not satisfied. As Talon was stepping into the carriage, she abruptly grabbed Talon, and pulled him infinitely close to her. Driven by some unnamed instinct, Talon complied to whatever action Riven was planning on performing. Leaning in, Talon accepted the gentle peck on the lips before he could stop himself or Riven. They remained like that for a second, the proximity comforting, soothing the two souls wounded and roughened by war. Nothing ran through Talon's mind-it was all blank, all bliss, all peaceful happiness.

Then the moment was gone. Riven drew back, her face as red as a tomato, and let pushed Talon into the carriage. Talon let it happened, too stupefied to move at all. He simply sat alone in the carriage made for at least five people, his fingers on his lips, savoring, remembering, long after Riven disappeared over the horizon.

Talon replayed the moment in his head on the entire trip. He would lock himself up in the carriage, and later, his room on the ship, and smile at the memory of kissing Riven. It felt alarmingly close to the General's dreamy, abstract depiction of romantic love, but Talon couldn't care less at that point. Riven kissed him! Life could only be rainbows and smiles from now on.

So, happier than he ever was, Talon went up to the front doors of the Du Couteau property. Routinely, he introduced himself to the guards, showed proofs to his identity. The guards let him in, but he couldn't help but notice their rather low spirit. He decided to ask Katarina when he had the chance.

"Sir Talon Du Couteau has returned!" The doorman announced as Talon entered the househould.

"Talon?" A woman's voice replied.

"Yes-"

A flurry of red flashed into Talon's view. The doorman went silent immediately.

"Talon!" Katarina yelled. She dashed over and tackled Talon with a hug. "You're not dead! You didn't even lose a limb!"

"Yeah," Talon returned the hug, "good to be back too."

Then Talon got to have a closer look at the closest thing he had to a sister, and found bags under Katarina's eyes. Moreover, her hair was messy. Now, Katarina was definitely more Riven than Cassiopeia, but she always, always kept her hair well. She considered her scarlet mane a Du Couteau symbol something passed down from the general to her.

"You alright?" Talon drew back. He held Katarina's shoulders and made her look at him. She immediately looked away, biting her lips.

"_I'm_ absolutely fine." She said. "Cassi, though...and father left you this."

A sealed letter seemed magically appear from her hand. She handed it to Talon, and then ran off. Talon had the feeling that she was going to go cry alone in some dark corner, but her grave tone somehow made Talon prioritize the letter. And Cassi, what happened to her...

Talon opened the letter as he made his way to his old room. He tucked the envelope in his pocket, careful to not lose anything from the general. Talon unfolded the paper inside, and began to go through the writings. They did not look fresh, but they were the General's alright.

"Talon, my boy." The letter read. "I am sorry for my decision to depart on such short notice, and also at such a crucial time. However, there are forces at work that I must figure out, as soon as possible. Their business, as I was informed, hold keys to my wife's murder. Yes, she was murdered, assassinated. Isn't it ironic? The most renowned assassin in all of Noxus, having his wife assassinated. It is a grudge that only blood can resolve, and I must avenge to be complete again."

Talon swallowed. The General sounded so formal and calm, but Talon could almost taste and smell the bitter hatred under the surface. General Du Couteau, the king of assassins, out for blood after all those years. Must be a sight to behold. He opened the door to his room and opened the windows. The room was well kept, with no dust settling on the surface, so Talon

"I'm proud of you, Talon." The letter continued. "I have heard of your achievements in the army, fighting beside Riven, always taking out important members of the Ionian forces. It pains me to see you risk your life out there, but it also brings such happiness to see you finally shining, as more than my personal assassin. You're destined for a lot more than just running errands for me. You will tip the scale of our war with Demacia one day, child, never doubt that. Also, it has come to my attention that I may very well not return from my quest, and I have yet to give you anything of value. Therefore, I leave you with third of all my estates, and the set of returning blades in my study. Make me even prouder, boy, and should we meet again in the future, I will not hesitate to call you my son."

"No," Talon whispered. Then his voice began to rise. "No, no no NO NO NO!"

He slammed the paper down on the nearest hard surface. The wood cracked. He tore at his hair and roared like a injured lion.

"NO!"

He punched the wall. He felt the room shake, and heard a sickening "snap" in from his hand, but the emotions blocked out the pain. What has he returned to? A Du Couteau mansion without the General? The most important place to him, without the most important person? What purpose did he have here, serving Noxus, if the very core of his motivation was gone? The General did not even promise a return.

"WHY!" Talon screamed at the ceiling. "WHY!"

He collapsed onto his old bed. It felt as soft as before, but it did nothing to comfort him. He could now feel his hand throb, and he wished it would hurt more, so he didn't need to think about the General. He had left Riven behind, but for what? To go home, and see Katarina suffering from her father's absence, and Cassi-

Wait, what happened to Cassi?

Talon stood straight again. He remembered the other pressing matter. He must find out what happened to Cassiopeia-that girl might not have has much in common with him as Katarina, but she was every bit a sister to Talon as well. He rushed out of the room cradling his broken hand as he went to find Cassiopeia. He navigated himself toward the part of the house Cassiopeia labeled as her own.

Talon stopped in front of the grand doors of Cassiopeia's bed chamber. Two guards stood guarding the doors, stoic as statues. When they saw Talon approach, they hefted their weapons and stepped forward to intercept Talon. Talon did not have the patience for them.

"You will move if you want to live." He stated, swishing his armblade. The guards struggled to stand their ground, but a voice from within called for them to stand down.

"Let him in."

Talon was not sure who the serpentine voice belonged to, but he walked inside. Try as he might, he could not have braced himself for the person, or rather, creature, waiting in the room. Talon could barely recognize Cassiopeia from waist up-her golden hair was gone, replaced by leathery looking things Talon could not name. Her delicate, smooth skin were now a rough, scaly texture. Her hands had been turned to claws, but she still looked like the Cassiopeia Talon knew. From waste down, though, Talon wasn't very sure. She had a snake's tail, green and elegant, but completely inhuman. When she heard Talon come in, she stiffened visibly.

"Am I hideous?" Cassiopeia asked. She caressed her face with her claws.

"What, what happened to you?" Talon ran over. He grabbed her hands, and Cassiopeia sucked in a breath.

"Don't, don't come near me!" She shrieked. "I'm poisonous!"

"No, you're not." Talon told her. He remained close.

"But I, I'm not even human anymore!" Cassiopeia cover her face.

Talon was still getting over his shock of seeing Cassiopeia like this. He had no idea what kind of evil magic it would take to turn such an innocent, sweet girl into something so bizarre. _Why_ would anyone even do this?

Talon probably let his confusion and shock show, for Cassiopeia smiled humorlessly and started to explain herself.

"I became a temptress." She said. Talon raised an eyebrow at her brusqueness. She giggled, and Talon could vaguely see why high ranking officials would open up to the girl in front of him.

"I couldn't stand being the useless one." She confessed. "I wanted to be more than just a pretty face, so I decided to use my pretty face to serve Noxus."

"What does this have to do with," Talon paused. He gestured at Cassiopeia's tail, "all this?"

"It was one of the dignitaries. He made be swear by his sword to not tell others his secrets, but I broke the oath, and I got turned into, well, 'all this'."

Talon gawked at her, unable to comprehend her tale. Cassiopeia sighed.

"I guess I got what I deserve." She twisted her tail. "I was cursed for double crossing him."

"No!" Talon yelled.

"Why?" Cassiopeia gave him a sad, sideways glance. "I am a traitor to him."

"This is too cruel!" Talon argued.

"His entire village up in Frejlord was destroyed." Cassiopeia told him, calm and collected.

Talon had nothing to say. To his horror, he realized Cassiopeia was right. Her betrayal led to his downfall, so he cursed her with the most evil thing Talon had ever seen. It was mere payback.

"There's got to be _something_ wrong with this!" Talon rubbed his eyes, and grunted when he hurt his broken hand.

"What happened to_ you_?" Cassiopeia slithered around in circles around Talon, examining his hand.

"Threw a tantrum." Talon muttered, "Nothing serious"

"Go get yourself a cast." Cassiopeia chided. "If you let it sit there for too long, you might have to amputate it."

"I'm different." Talon massaged his hand. "It heals on its own."

"What-" Cassiopeia tried to speak.

"Wait!" Talon interrupted. "That's it! Cassi, look at me, listen, you do not have to be upset about your curse! It's completely OK to be only partly human!"

"Um, Ok?" Cassiopeia eyed him skeptically.

"No, seriously!" Talon hit his palm with his fist. "Look at me! I'm part Shadow Isle! I'm no more human than you are now! Watch-"

Talon became invisible with the familiar pulse in the air. Cassiopeia gasped.

"You're, you're-"

"Not human, just like you." Talon finished for her. "You should be glad! Now we have something in common too!"

Cassiopeia did not reply to him for so long, Talon was beginning to feel like he said something wrong. But, before he completely lost his nerves, Cassiopeia broke into a huge, toothy smile. It warmed Talon's heart to say the least.

"So you and Kat can't just leave me behind anymore." She clasped her hands together. "How wonderful!"

"Talon? Cassi?" Katarina called from outside the door.

"Speak of the devil." Cassiopeia laughed. "Yea, sis, we're in here!"

Katarina walked in. She was fully armed.

"I'm looking forward to sparring with you again, Talon." She spun a dagger.

"Oh, I can do that too!" Cassiopeia cut in. Katarina narrowed her eyes.

"Cassi-"

"Talon just broke one of his hands in some random 'tantrum'." Cassiopeia insisted.

"Fine!" Katarina tossed her hair. "Just don't turn me into stones again!"

"No promise there," Cassiopeia giggled, "it's a risk you'll have to take."

Talon walked out. He had done his part, and it turned out quite alright. However, as he made his way to the infirmary, he couldn't help but feel lost. He thought of Cassiopeia, the General, and he wanted to yell again.

What did he return to?

**So, another chapter, getting closer and closer to Talon joining the League. However, this story will be updated long after the final chapter is up. I have to edit, redo, maybe even add new chapters in between. Hope there will still be some people with the story then.**


	13. Chapter 13--Riven's Funeral

"What, what the hell do you want with!" A terrified man yelped in Talon's grip of steel.

"Tell me _everything_ you know about General Du Couteau's disappearance."

Talon was back into his usual, bluish-purple outfit. He hid most of his face under the hood, but there was no hiding the murderous undertone.

"I dunno anything!" The man squeaked. He was about six five and 200 pounds, the average Noxian soldier, but he was dangling in the air, lifted single-handedly by Talon. He looked deathly pale.

"Then you have no purpose in this world." Talon sneered. He moved his blade. The man screamed once more, before his throat was cut wide open.

Talon wiped the blood off his blade. This is the 26th victim within a half a year. His search for the general ended in nothing but bloodshed. No one seemed to know just where the general went-it was as though the General never existed. Not a soul had met the General before he disappeared. Not the housekeeper, not his colleagues, not his enemies-nobody.

Talon couldn't help but feel lost. He was so used to having someone tell him what to do and who to kill. He wasn't a leader like Riven-he was a pawn, and he gladly served the General. Now, without the General, he faced the same question Riven struggled with-what was his purpose? Did he live to serve a Du Couteau house without its true master? Was he bound to Noxus, now and forever, to fight its wars? Or perhaps, he was free to roam the streets again, to steal and murder for a living.

He shook his head. He _had_ a purpose, he assured himself. His purpose was to find the most skilled assassin in all of Valoran and bring him home. It was _not_ impossible. It had to be done. It was his duty to recover his lost mentor. He would keep attempting to do it, despite everything life throw at him.

Yes, he had a purpose.

He ditched the man's body in a sewer, following his childhood quirk that was somewhat sickening. However, it was satisfying to know that _something_ stayed with him, even if it was just a idle habit. He had enough changes for a lifetime.

Talon returned to the Du Couteau manor. He did not greet Katarina or Cassiopeia—the former was busy with running the family as temporary head of the house, while the later was too concerned with her new look to step out of her room. Instead, he went straight for the house library.

He opened the journal that he left on the table before he departed for his target. It was a little notebook filled with names, some crossed out with scribblings next to them, some still clean and empty. With a blank face, he crossed out the name of the man he killed earlier. He jotted down a few sentences next to the name, marking any abnormal behavior that might be clues to the general's whereabouts. He looked over his newest edition to his vast collection of observations and discoveries. He felt as though he learned more about Noxus in that past half a year than in his entire life—the darkest, most disgusting side of the so-called nobles, the most grotesque secrets, most obscure sins. It really left some mark on his sanity, but that could no get into the way of his search. He had a task, and he will complete it—

"Sir!" A servant called from outside the door.

"I told you not to disturb me." Talon turned to the servant, a slight sneer on his face.

"It's from the High Command," The servant informed, a bit shaky, "it's said to be about Riven—"

Talon was out of the room. In the hallway was a soldier, dressed in the decorative light armor used only when working inside the Noxian capital. The soldier stood straight and proud, his chin slightly raised, looking down on Talon slightly with superior height.

"I am here to inform sergeant Talon Du Couteau that the last his partner in the military, Riven, has fallen in battle…"

Talon didn't hear the rest, at least not very clearly. He felt himself stumble, and then leaned against the wall. The world blurred in front of him. Riven, fallen in battle? Riven, after the General, after Kayvn, after _everyone_ else in the Crimson Elite.

Riven, too?

"…Riven's body is not retrieved. The only evidences of her death are parts her damaged armor. We cannot be sure of her death, but the officials have decided to declare her dead to the public."

"She might still be alive?" Talon was immediately in the soldier's face. The soldier squinted his eyes.

"I suggest you respect my personal space." the soldier said cooly. "As for your question, yes, Riven might still be alive, but if she is alive and failed to report back to Noxus for so long, she will be considered a traitor—"

"She would never, ever, betray Noxus." Talon's eyes went bloodshot. He grabbed the soldier's neck before the soldier could even blink. "She would _never_ betray our nation, so take that back."

_Right?_

Talon recalled Riven's words on the last day. She sounded so fed-up with fighting for Noxus—no, he would not doubt her.

"Get your hands off me, you—"

_Snap_.

Seeing that he was not getting an immediate apology, Talon tightened his hand around the soldier's neck. The muscles could not protect the bones, and the spine broke like a toothpick under Talon's inhuman strength.

He tossed the body on the ground like he was throwing trash.

"Clean it up." He ordered. Then he disappeared back into the library.

That night, the High Command sent another messenger. This one only left a formal letter from Jericho Swain and departed hastily. Talon read over it in his room absentmindedly, the same way he read the general's letter. Only this time, he didn't even feel like throwing a fit.

The letter requested him to attend the collective funeral of the Crimson Elites as the only survivor, with a speech attached for him to recite. It stated that the ceremony was to begin place a week from now, in the Hall of Honor where Riven received her black runic blade. The coffins would be on display for the duration of the speeches, and then moved to the actual burial place, where the family and closest friends would be allowed a final goodbye.

He put down the paper, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. Riven was no more, fighting until her last breath according to the letter. Riven, the girl that survived with him for five years, quite possibly the only person outside the Du Couteaus to have ever entered his heart. She even gave him a kiss!

And that was probably the last thing he would ever get from her.

He bit his lips, but only lightly from how weak he felt. There was a emptiness, a hollow in him, a sensation quite unlike anything else he had ever experienced. It was unique and alien, in the worst way possible. He was almost glad when Katarina interrupted his mourning.

"Talon, you in there?" The redhead called, landing a series of quick, loud knocks on his door.

"Yes." Talon croaked. He put down his letter and tried to look occupied with his research.

Katarina came in, even though Talon didn't ask her to. Talon noted that she slightly swung her hips as she walked; she was abandoning her tomboy character.

"I'm sorry about Riven." Katarina lowered her gaze.

"Don't be." Talon said.

"But—"

"You didn't cause it."

Katarina sighed. She put a hand on Talon's shoulder like an bossy older sister. She didn't try for more comforting words.

"Say," Talon muttered, "how do you know about me and Riven?"

"I hear stuff too in the army," Katarina pouted. "do you think I just throw my daggers every minute of the day?"

"Can't imagine anything else." Talon told her. She huffed.

"_Well_," Katarina crossed her arms. "since you're such a smarts and can't speak like a decent human being, I'll just go spend my time with Cassioepeia."

"Neither of us are fully human." Talon pointed out drily. Katarina winced.

"Sorry—"

"It's fine." Talon waved his hand.

Katarina pursed her lips. She looked like she wanted to say a lot more, but she stopped herself. With another sigh, she left and closed the door behind her. When Talon was sure she was gone for good, he again stared at the letter. After a while, he put his head down. He desperately wanted someone to lean on for once in his life.

—

The day of the funeral was sunny and warm. The generals, used to armors of all materials, all squirmed and fidgeted in their unfamiliar formal wears. Talon showed up in his Crimson Elite outfit, kind of as an mascot for the rest of the Noxus High Command. The Hall of Honor was already the Hall of Sweaty, Disgusting Old Men when Talon arrived—an unfitting, disgraceful bunch to mourn the departure of worthy warriors.

"…and I an proud to present to you, the last of the Crimson Elites, the only surviving youth from the Ionian Front, Talon Du Couteau!"

Swain's words barely reached Talon. Absent-mindedly, Talon walked up to take Swain's place as the speaker. He bowed toward the crowd.

"I am not much of a orator," Talon began according to the draft he was given, "and I certainly cannot express my sorrow and pride with words. The Crimson Elites were the most courageous and skillful bunch I've ever met…"

Talon didn't even feel those words go out of his mouth. His body uttered them, but his body was not working in sync with his wandering mind. Riven; dead. Dead; Riven. He tried to put those words together, and failed over and over again. A part of him refused to comprehend or acknowledge the fact that Riven was gone. _It is impossible,_ a voice exclaimed at the back of his head. That girl simply couldn't have died—she was too strong; and she gave him a kiss! She could not have just done that and then left him for good!

Vaguely, Talon heard the crowd clap. His body must have finished the speech. Involuntarily he gave another bow, and stepped away to allow Swain to once again address the crowd.

"…These braves youngster will all be dearly missed, and they are sure to be remembered as heroes of our nation!" Swain's words were dim and barely audible.

Riven, dead. Talon closed his eyes, and gruesome images of Riven's broken form popped up like mushrooms after a rain. He growled, grinding his teeth as he tried to get rid of those terrible visions.

"Take it easy, kid."

Someone patted Talon of the shoulder. He shivered from the touch and shrank away. The person laughed. Talon turned and beheld Draven, in formal black uniforms. He didn't have his spinning axes, but he looked just as arrogant.

"People die in this world." Draven continued with a stupid grin. "Even the ones you feel are worth hangin' out with."

"What—" Talon frowned.

"You and that Riven girl," Draven put on that classic "we share a secret" smirk, "saw somethin' between you two the first time I set ma eyes on you."

"You—"

"Don't dwell on this too much." Draven waved his hand. "You'll find another girl to fall yead over heel for, kiddo. Suck it up and keep fightin'."

Draven patted Talon on the shoulder again, and walked off smugly. Talon couldn't tell if the executioner was trying to comfort him, or merely showing off the fact that he knew about Riven and Talon.

"Another girl to fall head over heel for?' Talon mumbled. He closed his eyes, and took a deep, deep breathe. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was cold, dead, and vicious.

"I don't think so." He muttered, soft and light. Then he exited the room like a shadow without a backward glance.

**Hi everyone! Apology for no updates. I was at the summer college program in Cornell, stayin up till 2 AM every day trying to get some college credit b4 I get out of highschool. The story is almost done. Maybe one or two more updates within 7 day. Hope there are still people readin' this after all those years of not updating.**


	14. Chapter 14---A Broken Heart Reforged

The rest of that year had elapsed. Talon spent most of his waking hours searching for the general, trying to numb himself with exhaustion. His eyes were bloodshot; he had bags under those bloodshot eyes, and stubs were visible around his mouth. He was successful—he did achieve exhaustion, but it was because of the haunting dreams. Dreams of the General walking away, becoming a speck of color on the distant horizon. Of the Ionian front. Of Katarina, motionless and bleeding on the ground. Of Cassiopeia, tormented day and night by her curse. To his surprise, even Kayvn came back to him, pale and bleeding, but still walking and joking like he was never killed by his best and only friend.

But most of all, Talon dreamed of Riven. Of the horrible ways she would die, of how Talon had killed in that exact same manner, and of Riven accusing him of not being there for her, for breaking his promise, for letting her die alone. He would often wake peat midnight, forehead beaded with cold sweat, trembling from nightmares of deceased companions. His only comfort was his hunt for the General.

Twenty more men and women lost their lives under Talon's blade, martyrs of the great hunt for General Du Couteau.

Talon received multiple warnings from the Noxian High Command, hinting at terrible consequences if the murdering continued. Luckily, Talon already had enough bits and pieces; everyone that knew anything about the general's whereabouts suggested him to look in one place—The League of Legends.

The League of Legends was a rather unnerving name. Somehow, the League has mustered enough men and weapons to oppose any nation on Runeterra, and their adamant love for peace is absolutely disgusting to all Noxians.

But the General might be there.

Well, the general himself might not necessarily be there, but Talon had been told that if there was clue as to where the general went, it would be in the League of Legends.

But that was not the only reason that Talon was going to join the League.

He remembered the conversation with Katarina and Cassiopeia, not very long ago. The two girls showed up at the study out of the blue, barging in like they had all the right in the world to disturb a mourning man. On second thought, they probably did, being the two daughters of the General.

_"Hey, Talon!" Katarina cried, even though she was but a few feet away. "Runeterra to Talon!"_

_"Yes." Talon replied. His voice came out harsh and coarse, like metal scraping against metal. He coughed. _

_Katarina's expression softened. _

_"First of all," she declared, bossy as ever, but sounding very sisterly, "you're going to kill yourself like this."_

_"So be it." Talon grumbled. _

_"We're not taking that!" Cassiopeia suddenly spoke up. Talon was somewhat proud that she was ceasing to rasp like a snake. _

_"She's right." Katarina crossed her arms. "You need a break, some sleep, a decent meal, a bath too! You smell like—"_

_"No." Talon snapped. _

_"Oh no you didn't!" Katarina yelled and reached for Talon. Talon ducked and gave Katarina a cold glare. She huffed angrily._

_"Kat," Cassiopeia laid a hand on her sister's shoulder. "we've got other stuff—"_

_"Oh yeah!" Katarina smacked her fist into her palm. "I almost forgot!"_

_Talon was already going back to his notebook with all the investigation recordings. Katarina had to yell his name again to get his attention._

_"What is it?" Talon heaved a sigh. _

_"We're are going to join the League of Legends." Katarina and Cassiopeia announced together. _

_"Ok." Talon said curtly. He was going to turn to his notes when his brain actually registered the words. _

_"Wait, what?" He sprang up. _

_"We're joining the League of Legends!" Katarina smirked, pleased to finally have a reaction from Talon. _

_"What, why?"_

_"Noxus needs people in the League to remind the other nations that we are still strong." Cassiopeia explained, a bit sad. "I can no longer serve Noxus in my old ways; this is the only way for me—"_

_"That is a load of bullshit!" Talon growled. "The General is gone, we need to…"_

_His voice faltered. He suddenly remembered that the League of Legends might hold clues to the General's location. He rubbed his temple._

_"Maybe I do need a break." He whispered. Then he raised his voice so Katarina and Cassiopeia can hear him. "I'll tag along."_

_Katarina eyed him skeptically. _

_"I thought you wanted to stay behind and look for dad?"_

_"People told me clues would be in the League." The corner of Talon's mouth rose, turning into a grim smile. "Dying men don't lie."_

_Katarina bit her lips._

_"You've changed." She said, abruptly. _

_"So have you." Talon answered, avoiding eye-contact._

_"You are no longer the street rat that fought and killed to survive." Katarina continued. _

_"I never knew that!" Talon was surprised by his own bitter sarcasm. _

_"Don't be like this!" Katarina pressed. "We're all unhappy, but please, don't become just another Noxian soldier! You're more than just a cold-blooded murderer, right?"_

_Talon raised an eyebrow, and was amazed by how unfamiliar the action was to him. He couldn't help but wonder how little emotion he must have shown the world around him. _

_"That is rather interest, coming from the daughter of a Noxian general." Talon said, hollow and mocking. "Just another Noxian soldier? Isn't that your dream job?"_

_Katarina flinched, but did not yield._

_"You know what I mean!"_

_"Sis, maybe we shouldn't—"_

_"No, Cassy!" Katarina barked. "I'm done seeing him act like a zombie! I'm tired of—"_

_"What would you have me be, then?" Talon asked. "I am bound to serve this house and obey the orders of the master. I will comply."_

_The look on Katarina's face was beyond hurt. Tears poured out from her beautiful emerald eyes and down her cheeks. Cassiopeia tried to hold her back, but failed, and Katarina slapped Talon full on the face. Talon stumbled back and fell into his chair. He spat out a bloody, broken tooth—the hit was hard. _

_"How could you?" Katarina snarled, her tears falling like raindrops._

_"How could this world!" Talon suddenly roared. "How could this world take SO MUCH away from me? You're absolutely right! How could it!"_

_Katarina stepped back. Cassioepia did too, taken aback by Talon's sudden outburst. Talon slumped back down into the chair. _

_"Sorry." He mumbled. "For, for everything."_

_"Don't be." Katarina said softly. "Everything will be fine, Talon. Stop hurting yourself with your sadness."_

_"How?" Talon gave a humorless laugh. Katarina did not give an verbal answer. She simply gave Talon a hug and walked out. Then Cassiopeia followed suit._

_"You still have me and my sister," the half-serpent girl murmured, "there's still us."_

Talon rubbed his face in fatigue. That was a very awkward exchange for him. It made him open up, if only just for a second, but it made him feel weak nonetheless. He always hated being weak. He hated it, so much that he would kill and die to get rid of it, but somehow he felt that if he died right now, the shameful powerlessness would follow him in the afterlife and ruin death for him.

"Talon?" Cassiopeia's voice sounded from outside the study's doors. "We're leaving for the League!"

"Coming." Talon replied flatly. He rose from the chair and walked out of the dark study.

Cassiopeia was still the half-snake girl, so she wasn't dressed in anything fancy. Katarina, although human and rather attractive, refused to dress herself in anything beside her black leather outfit. So, with heavy hearts, the three underdressed Du Couteaus set sail for the League of Legends.

—

The judgement was over.

Talon was a bit shaky. The summoner—that bastard—invaded his mind like a robber. The memory of Kayvn was his darkest secrets. Nobody, not even the general, knew about this. He felt like after all those years of willing service, he deserved that little bit of privacy, but the League apparently didn't give a damn about his privacy or his past. They accepted him just the same. He was a slightly jarred by revealing his mind, but it was nice to know that he qualified even though he was a heartless murderer who would kill his first friend.

He was even more content with what the summoners told him about his Shadow Isle powers.

_You now fight as a champion for Noxus, so your Shadow Isle powers are somewhat like a …cheat. You will be unavailable until we can suppress them. You will retain just enough to allow you to stealth like normal. A lot of champions outside the Shadow Isle can do that…_

Talon almost thanked the summoner verbally. The summoner probably had no idea how big this was to Talon—being able to be in control at all times, and not going into a berserk rampage when provoked. The last thing he needed was to go stark raving mad in the middle of an assassination and either alert his target by killing too many people, or lose his own window of opportunity to run if the situation became unfavorable. He even wanted to ask if he could carry that "suppression" outside the league.

Talon saw Katarina and Cassiopeia walking over to him in the distance. The two girls were talking, and Katarina was _completely_ red, redder than a tomato, redder than the blood on the Ionian—no, he wasn't supposed to make that kind of reference.

"…for real? Garen?" Talon heard only bits and pieces of Cassiopeia's words from this distance. "They brought Ga—"

"Shut up!" Katarina told her sister. She was loud enough for everyone in the world to hear, as usual.

"But you two are so-o-o cute!" Cassiopeia cooed.

Talon walked up to join them. He had to be more upbeat around the girls—after all, they were all that was left of those he cared about. He had to treasure them, the closest thing he had to family.

"What happened?" He asked, expecting some sort of comical answer from Cassiopeia before he could even finish his two words. She did not fail him.

"Oh, oh, Kat's got a _boyfriend_!" She bounced lightly on her tail. Somehow, Talon got the impression that her current form served her better than her original one. "She's in loooove!"

"I do _not_ have a boyfriend, and I am _not_ in love!" Katarina protested.

"Is this 'boyfriend' the Garen guy you were talking about?" Talon smiled out of one corner of his mouth. "Hm, his name sounds a bit familiar—"

"Wha—you heard that?" Cassiopeia gasped. "Guess I should speak softer, hehe!"

"Wait," Talon blocked out Cassiopeia momentarily to focus on the name "Garen", "Garen as in the Demacian general that punches people even though he's got a huge sword right in his hand?"

Katarina facepalmed, as though she felt embarrassed _for_ Garen.

"Yes," Katarina mumbled, "that douche."

"Ok." Talon said, at a loss of anything else to say.

"They're amazing together!" Cassiopeia nearly squealed. "You should've seen them! They fought like they were dancing! And Kat's always so red after it!"

"I was red because I was tired and sweaty from trying to kill him!" Katarina defended herself.

"Keep telling yourself that." Cassiopeia smirked. "Just don't blame me when he's found someone else!"

"What—" Katrina was flushed.

"You do realize that you're missing out on the love of your life?" Cassiopeia said.

_The love of your life?_

Talon felt that hollow in his chest again. The love of his life—didn't he use to have one as well? Cassiopeia somehow noticed his heartbreak—it was as though she could smell love-related things like sharks smelling blood.

"Oh, sorry.." She muttered. "We really shouldn't be talking—"

"No." Talon sighed. "It's fine. I'm just being weak."

They began to walk toward the dormitory for champions, covering the short distance relatively quickly. Talon fell back a bit, walking behind the two girls, in his usual bodyguard/babysitter position.

"Talon," Cassiopeia suddenly spoke up, "do you mind if I ask you about Riven?"

"Ask all you want." Talon assured.

They entered the building. It had five stories, but they seem to be adding even more floors. The three gave the summoner at the front desk their names and country, and they went up. On the way to their room, they saw some very interesting people indeed. A little girl with a teddy bear, a bald man with blue skin and a huge scroll, and even a clown. Talon was somewhat bitter when he saw Master Yi, but they both acted like they didn't see each other, so there was no fight.

"What was she like?" Cassiopeia asked finally. "I mean, there are posters, but what did you see in her?"

"Well," Talon answered, "she was a lot like Kat, but less, you know—"

"I'm right here, you know." Katarina said.

"You get the point." Talon ignored her. "She uses this extremely large black rune blade—"

"Every Noxian child knows that story!" Katarina said again.

"But Riven's actually not into killing at all." Talon recalled with a small, but sincere smile. "She just want a good fight most of the time."

"That's why her last name—" Katarina was about to add more, but Cassiopeia quickly covered Katarina's mouth.

"She's pretty tall for a girl." Talon continued, a bit dreamy and nostalgic now from the memory of Riven. They walked past another room, people brushing past them as they went. "She's got silvery white hair, they're cut short so they don't get in the way, quite like that girl over there—"

His voice stopped abruptly. To his extent of knowledge, there was _no_ young woman other than Riven with short, silvery white hair. The person in that room—who is she?

"Oh, that's pretty rare, isn't it?" Cassiopeia was still speaking happily, but Talon didn't really hear her. He was focused on the girl in that room, trying to find more similarities with Riven.

"Riven.." Talon murmured. This girl, her posture, her hair, her height—she looked every bit like Riven. Her hair might've grown out slightly, and she no longer carried that huge black sword or wore her uniform, but Talon could recognize her even if she were burned to ashes. Could it be—

He remembered the messengers words:_ …Riven's body is not retrieved. The only evidences of her death are parts her damaged armor. We cannot be sure of her death, but the officials have decided to declare her dead to the public._

Could it be that his Riven did not die?

"You, you two go along." Talon said. _"_I've gotta do something."

Something was probably really off about his voice, because neither of the girls argued with him. They both gave him looks of genuine concern, and left. Once the girls were out of sight, Talon took a deep, trembling breathe, and went up the person that looked so much like Riven. However, "Riven" seemed to notice him, and was not pleased. She began to walk away, picking up her pace as though she didn't want to face Talon. Talon couldn't care less about whether this person wanted to meet him or not—he had to make sure if it was truly Riven.

Talon chased her all the way up to the third floor. In the end, the girl rushed into a room, and slammed the door. Talon looked at the doors—they were plain and undecorated, unlike some of the other doors he had seen. He braced himself, and knocked.

No reply. He knocked again. Again, nothing but silence. Talon lost his patience, and tried to open the door. It didn't budge, so Talon twisted the doorknob so hard, he broke the lock, and walked in.

The shimmering, ghostly tip of a familiar black sword greeted him. It pressed lightly but threateningly against his chest, humming gently with immense rune power. Talon knew this blade, and he knew the master of the blade even more. He looked up from the weapon, and beheld the face that so often haunted his dream.

"Riven." He said dryly. "It's been a while—"

"Why do you disturb my peace?" Riven questioned. Her eyes burned with a kind of fire that Talon had never before seen from Riven.

"Wha-what do you mean?" Talon tried to take a step to get closer to Riven, to hold her to see if she was real, but her blade forced him back.

"I mean what I say," Riven snarled, "why do you chase me and break through my door?"

"Why do _you_ run and hide from me?" Talon countered. "And why did you run and hide from our country—"

"_Your_ country, assassin." Riven spat. "Choose your words carefully—"

"What happened to you?" Talon frowned. "What—"

"What happened to me?" Riven repeated. Then she laughed, a heartbroken, hopeless laugh that stung Talon like a million hornets. "I was abandoned by _you_ nation, exterminated along with the Ionian forces! Your Riven is dead!"

"No, she isn't!" Talon said firmly. He took a step forward, pressing his skin hard against the blade. Riven growled, but backed down to avoid impaling him. Then she swished her blade, and Talon was suddenly aware that most of the runic blade seemed unreal. It was as though Riven wielded a hologram. She put her weapon on Talon's shoulder, her grip trembling, but Riven's grip on her weapon never trembled from physical strain.

"Leave!" Riven shouted. "Get out of my room! I've cut ties with the current Noxus! Begone!"

"I am not here on the behalf of Noxus!" Talon shouted right back. He shoved her sword away—it was somehow very light—and then stepped in to put his hands on Riven's shoulders the same way he did in military. Riven shivered from the touch.

"Look at me!" He demanded. "I'm still your friend, am I not? And you wanted to be more than that, right? I knew I did—"

"Stop it!" Riven shoved him back and stepped away again. She put her sword in front of her defensively. "I'll kill you if you touch me again!"

"Do it!" Talon cried. He grabbed his arm blade and ripped it off. He tossed it only the floor. Then he opened his arms, as though to embrace Riven, sword and all. "Run me through! Chop me in half! If my Riven is dead, then maybe death is better than living!"

Riven wavered. She lowered her blade momentarily. Then she dropped her blade and turned away, hiding her face from Talon.

"Go." She told him, soft and sad. "I won't fight an unarmed man."

"I will not leave before we sort this out!" Talon walked up to Riven again to give her the hug that was long overdue. Riven struggled against him, but somehow unable to fight Talon's arms. She went limp in his hold, and began to shake violently. Talon realized she was crying into his shirt.

"All dead," she sobbed, "everyone in my squad, everyone!"

"What are you—"

"The Zaun biochemical weapons! Everyone! Ionians and us!"

"What?" Talon demanded. "What are you talking about?"

But Riven just cried and cried, sounding sad, angry, desperate and scared all at once. Talon was as clueless as before, not having the slightest clue of what to do. He tried his best to hold her gently, but he was only educated in the art of killing. He wanted to make her feel better, but could do nothing. So he just held Riven awkwardly, until Riven ceased to shed tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" At long last, Talon spoke. The response came very late, with half a minute worth of delay.

"It doesn't help." Riven said. "Some summoners saw it, but it didn't make it better."

"I hope I'm better company than 'some summoners'?" Talon joked. Riven didn't laugh or move in his embrace.

"I'm glad you still try to be funny." Riven's sound was a bit muffled. "But yes, you are still the best company."

"So?" Talon asked. "What happened? What got between your end of our deal?"

"Noxus turned on me and my comrades." Riven stated, simple and curt.

"What do you mean?"

Riven exhaled.

"We were ambushed by Ionians." She began. "We were outnumbered, and my men were tired. We were losing quickly, and I thought I would have the glorious death, fighting, beside my squad."

She paused—her voice was trembling again. The memory must have been painful. She broke away from Talon's hug and sat down on the nearest chair. Talon grabbed another chair and sat down next to her.

"We called for backup." Riven recalled. She looked at Talon, but Talon felt that she was looking through him and at the battle. "Instead of reinforcement, the High Comman sent a barrage of Zaun's biochemical missels."

Riven trembled—the shiver through her body from head to toe.

"It didn't target the Ionians," She closed her eyes. "It killed everything that could be killed. Everything but me."

"Sorry I wasn't there." Talon muttered.

"At least you came for me now." Riven began to smile.

"About that…" Talon said sheepishly. "I was actually looking for the general—"

"You came running after me as soon as you saw me." Riven sounded happy for the first time in their conversation. "You stayed and hugged me even though I was pointing my sword at you this whole time. Dunno about you, but that's enough "being there" for me."

Talon smiled as well.

"Good to have you back." He said.

"Likewise." Riven's smile widened even more.

Another pause. Riven leaned back in her chair, with the relaxed aura of one who just got a mouton off her back.

"Well, I'm pretty much a free person now." Riven laughed. "I'm not bound to any country, or anyone—"

"No!" Talon exclaimed. "You're forever bound to me! Remember our deal?"

"Oh, you big baby." Riven rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "The point is, I can help you search for your General."

Talon reached over and grabbed Riven's hands, causing her to blush ever so slightly.

"Thank you." Talon said, looking Riven dead in the eyes.

"I don't want you to always have something on your mind." Riven replied. "It's not a good feeling."

"But I already have a lot of thing on my mind." Talon pulled, and Riven stumbled into his embrace again. "You're always on my mind, Riven."

And so they talked for the rest of the day, Riven sitting on Talon's laps, laughing and joking like they never left the military, like no tragedy had ever befallen either. This is the moment that made Talon feel life is good—he got Riven back; Katarina and Cassiopeia are generally happy; he would continue the search for the General—it would be his drive to do his best on the Field of Justice.

Life truly is good.

**So, the last chapter. Our poor Talon got Riven back. They can't be together and serve Noxus, but they can be together and fight in the League. Hopefully I wrapped it up OK, and thank you for actually reading this whole thing. I might write some one-shots, like what happened in the 5 years of war, or how Talon lived out on the streets, or even Talon babysitting Kat and Cassy. Pls leave what you wanna see in reviews and I'll try my best to write it.**


	15. Bonus 1--A Snowy Funeral

The world was a stage of the purest, palest white. It was a stage, a snowy stage for many plays of tragedy. An inch of fresh powder has already made the Crimson Elite's little cemetery blissfully blank and beautiful.

It was the third winter in Ionia, and the Crimson Elites have yet again lost two members. Despite its many occurrences in the past, the loss still brought tears to the eyes of most. The group of highly-trained youngsters were down to the last ten, and that was including Riven and Talon. The war was truly merciless and indiscriminating when it came to the lives it claimed. It was the fairest thing on Runeterra, in the harshest manner possible.

Riven and the other girl, Leila, were both extremely depressed by the newest deaths. They were like this at every burial. Leila was especially unhappy—she was crying a river, shedding tears to such a degree the description felt literal. Riven didn't really cry, but her eyes were red and just a tiny bit puffy. Her knuckles were as white as the falling snow, telling others just how tight her grip on her blade was. The male population was not much better. Some were silent, some were cursing the Ionians with the cruelest of words, and one wasn't even composed enough to attend the funeral; something about one of the dead being his brother.

Talon was the only exception. He stood slightly away from the crowd, not showing any sign of mourning—he felt no connection to the deceased, only a slight distaste for the fact that they were weak enough to fall in battle. He wore a sneer under his gold mask, but to the rest of the world, he was just a shadow, a ghostly representation of a man that was not to be crossed.

Faint sound of boots pressing into snow alerted Talon of the incoming coffins. He was the only one sober enough to notice it, of course; others were all drunk with sadness. Talon's sneer deepened, scornful at the crowd for being so soft. Noxians were not born to mourn. They were warriors, men and women who avenge instead of cry, soldiers who would break every bone before shedding a single tear. At least, they were supposed to be. Talon had no idea what got into this generation, but he was used to them being immature and emotional after three years beside them. Yes, he was used to them, not tolerant, not sympathetic, but merely used to them.

Gradually, the two coffins came into view. Four men carried them, two for each, and the dark wood contrasted so garishly against the white of nature, they were as out of place as a blazing fire. As the men and coffins closed the distance, Talon suddenly recalled why they were even needed. Usually, the bodies were buried without anything—even damaged weapons can be reused, burying them with the dead was nothing but a waste of materials. However, the bodies of those who did not have a full corpse, or no corpse at all, were given a coffin. Talon felt a bit disgusted; he never gave his victims anything but a swift death, one fatal wound to end all things, whether happy or sad. However, this is war, and there was no such privilege.

Judging from the intensifying sobs, Talon wasn't the only one who knew this. He looked over grudgingly, and noticed that Riven was in an even worse mood than before. She frowned so deeply and thoughtfully, it somehow touched Talon's heart. If anyone from this group truly had Talon's respect, and even concern for, it would be Riven. To see her like this—it simply would not do. Talon heaved a mighty sigh and walked over. He stood next to Riven

"Why are you upset over something that's not your fault?" He asked. Riven bit her lips, as though to avoiding sobbing out loud. Tears were already forming in her eyes.

The two men dropped the coffins on the ground, and began to dig with some of the Crimson Elites.

"How is it not." She said quietly. "They were under my command—I should have kept everyone alive."

"Not a single soul have managed to do that in the history of Valoran." Talon countered. He realized he sounded more argumentative than comforting, so he softened his voice. "Don't be too hard on yourself; people come, people go, its a part of life."

"A nasty part, too." Riven snorted.

"Still," Talon tried for something that would distract Riven from her sorrow, "we should get back soon, it's very cold out here."

"Your heart is a lot colder." Riven suddenly turned to Talon. "How can you not feel anything for your fellow soldiers?"

Talon went silent. On the bright side, he turned Riven away from sadness. However, she was now angry, and angry Riven was not easy to deal with. If he didn't know Riven, he would much rather let her stay sad and save himself some trouble. But he did, and he knew her quite well. In fact, nobody was closer to him outside the Du Couteau family than Riven, maybe Kayvn, but Kayvn was a forbidden subject.

"I do." Talon lied. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the coffins being lowered into the freshly dug holes. The Crimson Elites handled the coffins themselves.

"Then show me!" Riven pressed. "Take off your ugly mask! You never wore it when there was just the two of us, I have no idea why you would need it now!"

"I—"

"Cut it, Talon." Riven snarled. "If you truly feel like a human being, then take of your mask! Stop hiding beneath that mask! Stop it!"

Those words struck home—Talon wasn't truly human, and he was disturbed by that. It was one of his greatest fear, to one day unravel this secret, and be cast out by everyone he knew. He could not imagine what things would be like, if say, Katarina or Cassiopeia, or simply the Crimson Elites, started to fear or hate him for having a part of the Shadow Isle in him. This burden was enough to make him physically sick. Riven probably saw how hard it hit even without seeing Talon's face. She turned away her face and stared intently at a patch of snow on the ground.

"Sorry," She muttered. "I'm all messed up right now—"

"No." Talon interrupted. His words had more meaning than Riven could've known. "You are absolutely right."

Of course, he meant about not being able to feel like a human being. He shivered, but not from the cold.

"That, that was rude." Riven said, her voice low. "I didn't mean anything hurtful—"

"Don't worry about it." Talon answered swiftly as he turned away from Riven, from the rest of the group. He began to walk away.

"Again, it's pretty cold out here." Talon said. He sounded so desolate and insecure, he was suddenly beheld as the saddest one in the group.

"Talon!" Riven called from behind him, her voice mingling with the sound of dirt landing on wood. They were burying the coffins at last.

Riven still had no idea why those particular words could get such a big reaction from someone seemed to have the the emotional capacity of a zombie. She would not know how deep her words had cut for a while. She could only watch in hopeless regret as Talon's slender form disappeared into the snowstorm, creating a uncrossable gap both physically and mentally, and try to imagine how much it would take to close the wounds inflicted by those simple words. She barely managed to drag Talon out of his little turtle shell of indifference in the past years—she couldn't imagine what it would take to do it a second time, after such an incident.

Talon was the only one who left the funeral. The person that was previously disabled by grief half crawled to attend his brother's funeral, crying until he passed out again in front of the tiny, new tombstones in the cemetery. His closest buddies carried him back to the tent, but when they were back, they did not see Talon. In fact, they did not see Talon for three more days, until he returned, bloody and half dead, with a few arrows sticking out of his body. It was later revealed that he went and slaughtered an entire Ionian camp. To the rest of the group, he was so touched by the death of his friends that he risked his life to get what they thought were justified revenge.

In truth, they were just sacrifices to keep Talon's mind off the Shadow Isles. But again, Riven would the only one to live and learn that, and even that would be a few years later.

**Hi! I'm still alive, woohoo! Again, the main story is finished, but it's only a first draft sort of thing, and I'm definitely writing some oneshots to practice stuff and get more used to the characters. This one is sort of short and depressing, but that's because today's my first day of school. The rest should be better!**


	16. Bonus 2--Guilt and Pain

_"Talon…"_

_"I thought we are friends!"_

_"I brought you your first weapons, and you repaid me by using them on me?"_

_"I saved you on our first meeting!"_

_"You must pay for your actions!"_

_"Will you murder your new friends as well? Do you even have new friends?"_

"Talon?"

Talon snapped upright in his bed, drenched in cold sweat, panting, his eyes wide. He was in the Crimson Elite tent. He was not being confronted by Kayvn. Kayvn was dead. He killed Kayvn.

"Talon!"

Talon finally noticed Riven calling out to him by his bed. She looked worried.

"I'm fine." He muttered. Then, he added. "Thanks. Sorry for waking you again."

Riven blushed.

"No sorrys, Talon. I was actually having trouble sleeping myself." She confessed. "And then I saw you, and you looked like you were about to die—"

Talon gave a weak smile. He noticed Riven's hair was slightly messy, possibly from the toss and turns during bad dreams. He reached pushed the loose strand behind her ear for her, causing her blush to intensify so much that Talon didn't even need the Shadow Isle powers to see it in the dark.

"You had nightmares?" Talon asked.

"You too?"

They both chuckled. This was a common ailment amongst soldiers. These poor fighters faced the greatest fear of humans everyday; they are almost numbed by the sheer amount of death and destruction. It's only reasonable that what others brush off become haunting to them.

That was exactly the case with Talon. Now, it would be a lie to say that Kayvn's death didn't burden him at all, but it was never so oppressive as to disturb his sleep. This was not the first time that he had waken up at night, terrified to death by the dreams of Kayvn. It was not so much the fact that he was afraid of Kayvn coming back as a ghost; he was absolutely horrified, but only of Kayvn's accession: Will you kill your new friends as well?

Talon really didn't know.

The time in the Du Couteau household had definitely changed him for the better, but if he was really threatened, could he still turn on those close to him? Were there really any throats that he wouldn't slit for a better life? If there wasn't, should he stay away from those he held dear?

"Hey, Talon!" Riven snapped. "Wake up! I mean, if you can actually sleep then go ahead—"

"Yeah, I'm awake." Talon grumbled. "Seriously, what's on your mind?"

Riven pouted.

"Can I not tell you?"

"I won't force you to do anything." Talon assured her, in such a generous, caring manner that it basically left Riven no choice but to tell him everything.

She sat down on the edge of his back. He hoisted himself up into a sitting position as well. When she spoke, she didn't maintain eye contact.

"I see all the other Crimson Elites." Riven's voice was but a ghostly whisper. "Leila, Charles, Darren—I see them, almost everyday."

"Aren't they our alley?" Talon asked. "Why would seeing them be nightmares?"

"But I failed them." Riven answered. "I didn't keep any of them alive, I couldn't save—"

"Blah, blah blah." Talon interrupted. "They are dead because they are weak, not because _you_ are weak."

"It's not about being strong or weak." Riven shook her head sadly. "A leader protects her followers. I led you all into battle, I should have led you all back out as well."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Talon remarked.

"I know!" Riven buried her face in her palms. "But I can't help it!"

Talon sighed. He patted Riven gently on the shoulder.

"Hey," Talon tried to speak as gently as possible. "C'mon, Riven. Snap out of it. Even if it is your fault, it's done now—"

"Thank you for being so comforting." Riven's words oozed with sarcasm.

"I was going to tell you to look more at today, and like treat me better, but…" Talon explained dryly.

"Which doesn't really help either." Riven fell back and used Talon as a pillow. "You're all 'oh I'm Talon I can kill everyone and everything', how do I treat you better."

"Actually that is a very good question." Talon hesitated.

"Let's go back to sleep." Riven yawned.

"Are you—"

"Talon," Riven hushed, "I'll be fine. Good night."

And she retreated back to her bunk, snuffing the candle that she had brought.

_The next day, on the battlefield._

"Behind you!" Talon warned. Riven spun just in time to bring her blade down and block the incoming blow. The attacker stumbled and lost his balance, but Riven's other enemy was already coming back for more.

A throwing knife from Talon landed on the fallen man's throat. He didn't even get to cry out—the knife went through everything, windpipe, vocal cord and all. HIs gurgling was concealed by the clash of steel as he died, bleeding and suffocating.

Riven and Talon was moving toward each other, cutting through Ionians on their quest to reunite with each other. A few moments ago, the tide of Ionians had ripped them apart, and they immediately faced many "close calls". Getting out of the back to back position for too long was certain death. No one could hold their own against an army.

Talon grunted as he caught five different weapons on his slim, wicked armblade. The force alone was able to harm him; but the force of the blow also made him stumble toward Riven faster than he could've managed to run amidst a all-out war like this. He slammed into Riven, who staggered forward, but recovered before anyone could take advantage of it. Talon was seeing stars from the previous blow still, but he waved his hand blindly and let loose three sets of throwing knives. They drew blood and returned to him like proud children bragging to their parents.

"We gotta get out of here!" Riven told Talon.

"How?"

"I'm thinking—DUCK!" Riven suddenly raised her voice. She turned to the right and shoved Talon behind her violently, all in one fluid motion. Talon was barely registering the motion—why had this sudden frenzy come over Riven? He did not understand Riven's actions or the glint of panic in her eyes as she stood in front of him. A panic that, he soon realized, was for him. She stood straight and stiff like a glorious shield, although she was a size or two smaller than Talon. Talon blinked in surprise.

And an incoming arrow sank into Riven's abdomen. The force almost knocking her completely off her feet,making her stagger back.

"RIVEN!" Talon roared. He was up immediately. Riven swung her runic sword with one arm, and cleaved the half a dozen men around her. She raised her blade to block the next incoming arrow—

_Thud._

The tail of the arrow shook violently from being stopped so brutishly. Talon had blinked in front of Riven and grabbed the arrow in the middle of its shaft. He tightened his grasp, and the arrow snapped. He was about to head straight for the archers when Riven behind him. He shivered. Did he just forget about Riven in his anger? If Riven did not made any sound or movement, would he have left her here, wounded because she took an arrow for _him,_ and went off to kill?

_Will you kill your new friends too?_

He almost did just that.

"Damn," Riven spoke. Her left arm was limp, but she didn't look very bothered. "I was just saying about how I can't really take care of you in any way last night, and now I get to take an arrow for the bigshot."

"Riven—"

"Is this what the smart people call irony?" Riven laughed weakly. Then she felt the intensity of Talon's gaze. "What?"

"Let's get out of here." Talon commanded. He stepped forward and held Riven in a tight embrace, causing her to give a yelp of surprise. Then he blinked as far as he could, taking Riven with him.

They didn't go very far, at least not by Talon's standard. Only thirty feet. Talon stopped to defend himself, and then blinked again.

Another blink. This time, Talon's stance wavered as he emerged, but he recovered in a split second to take care of the incoming enemies.

Once more. Talon felt sweat down his jaws. He knew this was going to drain him too much, but he also knew that he could not let Riven fight with an arrow in her.

After two more teleports, Talon was panting and pale. The amount of power needed to teleport someone with him was insane.

"Talon, are you OK?" Riven asked. She didn't see Talon so worn out very often.

"Hang on." Talon gritted his teeth. He could feel his hands and feet getting colder—he was moving rapidly toward unconsciousness. He teleported, parry repost a couple of attacks, and teleported again. He could see the Noxian campsite getting closer, but he could also feel his strength fading faster and faster.

"Talon, stop!" Riven demanded in his arms. "Whatever you're doing, it's killing you!"

"Shut up!" He growled. "I'll get you back to the camp, just sit tight—"

"No!" Riven cried. "I don't want you to die!"

"I won't—"

"Yes you will! You look dead already!"

Talon didn't answer. His vision blurred, and he shook his head. Three Ionians were coming this way, and he was weak—

Riven pushed him away, and brandished her blade. The three men stopped dead in their tracks; injured or not, Riven was still the Slenderman to Ionians. However, the strain of taking a stance with her huge sword made her grunt in pain. She doubled over, and the Ionians realized that she was in the worst state possible. They advanced with their weapons ready, their muscles tense, nervous but determined to draw blood.

Talon leapt at the nearest enemy. He landed on top of the Ionian, sending both of them onto the ground. As they went down, Talon slipped a knife in between the Ionian's ribs, and rolled away to relative safety. He took a blade to the shoulder as soon as he came up. He fell back down. The blade came again, and he blocked it on his armblade. It hurted, but pain would have to wait until Riven was safe.

He remembered Kayvn's last glance at him. He remembered the rest of the Crimson Elites—every one of them, every one of their dying moments. He imagined Riven, in Kayvn's place, or Leila's, or Darren's, or Eric's. He pictured the life of Riven slipping through his fingers and out of his grasp like quicksilver.

He could not stand it.

So he stood again. His eyes were red as he brought back his arm blade, and the scarlet only intensified has Talon crossed blades with the Ionian that had left marks on him previously. The red was like fire and blood, like the most evil and venomous of hatred. It was anything but human.

Silent as death, Talon's arm blade cut right through the Ionian weapon, right through the light armor, and the entire body of the Ionian, with such oppressive force that the top half of the body was sent flying, with blood jetting out like a fountain. The last Ionian screamed in fear and fled, throwing away his sword and his helmet as he went. Talon sneered at the Ionian's retreating form, but his strength was leaving him even faster than before. Riven tried walked over, and Talon winced just from watching her move with an arrow in her.

"Talon—"

"Stop moving, you, you have to save some strength—"

"No!" Riven yelled, and then trembled in pain. "Come on, let's go!"

Talon struggled to move his body again. Riven was still in danger; she still needed him. She saved his life but a few minutes before, he could not just let them both die here because he was too weak. He took a painful step toward Riven, and grabbed her elbow to support her, and put a fraction of his weight on her. They moved slowly—every inch was agonizing, but they managed. Talon could feel his blood down his back like a waterfall, and he could tell that he was straining the rest of his body to the point of breaking as well. But he had to make it. He was a survivor, and at least he had to make sure Riven survived too. They crossed the last hundred feet and returned to friendly territory.

"MEDIC!" Talon yelled. "ARROW WOUND! HURRY!"

And then he collapsed onto the ground, the world blurring and darkening around him. Vaguely, he heard the commotion of the Noxians trying to patch them both up. Finally safe and assured, Talon sank to the ground, letting exhaustion take over.


End file.
